A Jedi's Heart 1  A Union Of Souls
by Aussie73
Summary: Eight years after their first meeting, Padme Amidala and Obi-Wan Kenobi meet again. Will love finally bloom between them? Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**Notes**: This is an AU story, set in a GFFA where Qui-Gon lived and Anakin didn't. The prologue is set eight years after the battle of Naboo – the bulk two years later (in what would be _Attack Of The Clones_ in Lucas' universe).

**Pairing**: Obi-Wan/Padmé.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi scrubbed at his beard in a nervous gesture he thought he'd defeated years ago then glanced down at his 14 year old Padawan. Yes; she'd seen him as the mischievous grin informed him only too readily.

Why was he so nervous? Granted; it had been many years since he'd seen her, but they'd hardly been strangers in the time since the Naboo blockade. They'd written, made com calls and had followed each other's growing fame via holocasts when personal communications had been impossible.

Padmé Amidala – now Senator for the Chommell Sector – was one of the few politicians Obi-Wan could genuinely claim to like, with the other one being the Senator for Alderaan, Bail Organa. She was warm, clever, funny and had an evil sense of humor. As well as being lovely to look at, of course.

Now, where had that thought come from? Obi-Wan scrubbed at his beard once more – this time in frustration. Even though the ban on attachments had been lifted more than ten years earlier, the beautiful young Senator could have her pick of handsome suitors. Obi-Wan was more than a decade her senior and, though he was fit and strong, he knew that he couldn't compete with the dashing young men that flocked around the Senator.

The door opened and he promptly got to his feet to greet the Senator. "Padmé …," he got out stupidly. Gone were the overpowering head-dresses and face paints that had characterized her time as Queen of Naboo. Instead she was dressed simply in a delicate rose color, her brown eyes and hair equally free of artifice.

The young Senator smiled widely at him then crossed over to pull him into a surprisingly fierce embrace. The petite woman was far stronger than she seemed. "Obi-Wan!" she exclaimed in delight. "When I was informed that two Jedi would be attending my swearing-in, I'd hoped you would be one of them."

To Obi-Wan's dismay, his complexion took on the same rosy hue as Padmé's gown, and he coughed to mask his discomfort. "I'm honored to attend, Senator," he said, mindful of the mirth-filled eyes of his young Padawan.

He received another beam – more impish this time – then felt soft lips touch his cheek. "Why so formal all of a sudden, Master Kenobi?" she teased, tucking her hand through his arm. "Just because we haven't seen each other in person for a while, it doesn't mean we aren't still friends."

"Of course we're still friends," Obi-Wan said, wondering if everyone could hear the blood thundering through his body. "I was just … surprised that's all. You've changed so much."

Padmé laughed. "So have you, _Master_ Kenobi." She tugged at his beard. "For instance, why have you taken to wearing Wookiee hide on your face?"

Obi-Wan had to laugh at that before fingering the beard he'd adopted about a year ago – when he'd had the status of Master conferred upon him. He hadn't wanted to look like a Padawan still, especially now that he had a Padawan of his own. So he'd grown the beard to mask his youthful features. Yet he couldn't work out how to explain this to Padmé without appearing as if he was fishing for compliments. "I felt like making a change," he said, recalling the teasing he'd endured from his former Master while the beard had grown in.

"Well …" Padmé tilted her head to one side in a gesture someone cockier would have construed as flirtatious. "I think I like it," she pronounced. "Anyway – enough of feeding your ego … what little there _is_ of it! Come and sit and talk. It's an hour until we have to leave – that should give us time to catch up a little."

Obi-Wan laughed again and allowed the younger woman to tug him over to a small settee. She truly was a force of nature, but one that he thoroughly enjoyed. "Yes, Milady," he teased gently, settling himself comfortably before gesturing for his Padawan to sit also. "I've forgotten my manners," he added ruefully. "Senator …"

"Padmé"

"Padmé; this is my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano."

"It's nice to meet you, Ahsoka," Padmé said with another of her warm smiles, this time at the young Togruta.

"You too," Ahsoka replied then lapsed into a highly uncharacteristic silence.

"So, Obi-Wan; tell me what you've been doing lately. And how is Master Jinn – as hot-tempered as ever?"

She chuckled sarcastically and Obi-Wan smiled also. He realized that Padmé had no idea that Qui-Gon had once been far more passionate and headstrong but a devastating loss many years ago had tempered him, made him far more cautious.

Encouraged by the young woman's warmth and friendliness, Obi-Wan began to talk in a way that would have surprised the many people who thought him reserved.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé Amidala rubbed hand across the back of her neck, reveling in being free of those heavy head-dresses for the first time in nearly ten years. It was still sometimes a shock to feel her loose curls instead of ornate metallic or feathered arrangements but she was quickly becoming accustomed to it.

She looked at her friend, noting the more mature features. Gone was the smooth baby face of eight years ago, replaced by a man full-grown. And a handsome one at that, with his bright eyes, fair complexion and slim but muscular physique.

In so many ways, he had changed so much, but he still blushed much as he'd been prone to when they'd first met all those years ago. In a galaxy full of change, this was comforting to Padmé.

She raked her eyes across his handsome visage once more, pleased when he flushed and his pupils dilated briefly. She was not unaware that people found her attractive, but for someone like Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi – so serious and reserved – to have expressed his desires thus … it was more than a little flattering.

_No!_, she scolded herself. _You're the youngest Senator in history! Do you really want to prove the naysayers right – that you're still a young girl who can be swayed by a pair of lovely eyes and a beautiful smile? Besides, he's not your type._

She called to mind the image of her current suitor; a tall dark-haired man of her own age with boyish good looks. And was dismayed to realize that it wasn't only his looks that now seemed boyish. Leith was amusing, popular, didn't take life too seriously, and hadn't let her status as then-Queen stand in the way of making his intentions toward her known.

They'd been courting for six months and she was fairly certain that he intended to propose a bonding. But how did she feel about that? Shouldn't she be more excited at the prospect of marrying the man she loved?

"Padmé?" A gentle hand on her knee interrupted her ruminations and Padmé felt a delicious warmth radiate from his touch. "Are you all right?"

And Padmé felt an overwhelming urge to kiss away that worried frown – an urge she quickly squelched. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," she said, squeezing the hand that still rested on her knee – a hand that was as strong and gentle as its owner, she realized. "I've … had a lot on my mind lately."

"Understandable," Obi-Wan said then looked at his wrist chrono. "I believe it's time, Senator," he added.

"Not officially – not for another half an hour," Padmé argued. "And never to you, Obi-Wan. I always want to be Padmé as far as you're concerned."

Obi-Wan got up and extended his arm in a gallant gesture. "Then shall we go, Padmé?"

Smiling up at the man she felt honored to call her friend, Padmé nodded her head and took his arm. "We shall indeed, Obi."

He glanced at her quizzically, and she hastened to explain; "Obi-Wan is such a mouthful all the time – it sounds so … formal. And we're friends; friends shouldn't feel the need to be formal."

"Indeed not," Obi-Wan said then grinned. "Pad."

Padmé cringed and slapped at his upper arm. A very firm, very strong upper arm she noticed, more than a little tempted to squeeze the taut muscles. "Under that calm proper Jedi; you're hiding a mean streak," she accused. "All right; you win. No more shortening of names."

Obi-Wan smiled again. "Much better," he said.

If either of them had realized how flirtatious their interactions were becoming, they would have been both surprised and dismayed. However, they did not, and the bond of friendship – forged initially so many years ago on this very planet – began a slow metamorphosis into something better and deeper.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ****1**

**Two years later:**

Padmé Amidala curled up in a small ball in the corner of a settee, hands clasped tightly together, willing them to stop shaking. All she could see, all she could hear, was the explosion that had taken her friend and decoy's life not five hours earlier.

Captain Typho hovered worriedly while one of her other decoys set down a tray in front of Padmé, bearing a steaming cup of _kevas_. "Milady?" Katile said softly, jerking Padmé out of her fugue.

"Thank you, Katile," Padmé said, noting the distinct redness of the other woman's eyes. Cordé and Katile had been friends for many years – long before joining then-Queen Padmé's retinue.

After the explosion, she'd had enough presence of mind to attend Senate and had reiterated her strong opposition to the creation of a Republic army. She had lived through one war and did not want to repeat that experience. Never had she seen the Senate so divided over an issue – so many of them were acting like bickering children, and a small part of her could understand why planets were beginning to secede from the Republic.

_Is it true?_, she thought, closing her eyes. _Have we become so big, so top-heavy, that we've forgotten why we were elected?_

She reached for her cup and took a sip, noting briefly that it was still too hot to drink. But she was so cold … Right now, she didn't feel like she'd ever be warm again.

"Milady?" Katile appeared again. "The Chancellor has requested your presence."

Padmé sighed in annoyance and took another sip of her _kevas_ as a delaying tactic. Over the last few years she'd grown increasingly uncomfortable around the man who'd once been one of her most trusted advisors. People changed – she certainly had since her first tumultuous years as Queen of Naboo – but …

She put down the tea and got up, adjusting the folds of her gown. "I'm ready, Katile," she said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Jedi Masters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn entered the tasteful Senate residence at 500 Republic and made their way into the lift. "I have the feeling that Padmé won't be too pleased at being assigned more protection," Obi-Wan observed.

His former Master, and now close friend, smiled faintly. "She's a sensible young woman, though," he counseled. "She must understand the necessity."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Understand, yes. Accept gracefully, no," he riposted. "Remember how stubborn she was all those years ago? Time certainly hasn't changed that."

A soft chuckle came from the older man. "Given her current stance against the creation of a Republic army, I can quite believe that."

They reached the door to Padmé's apartment, and Obi-Wan raised his hand to press the chime. Before he could do so, however, the door opened to reveal a mutinous-looking Senator.

Obi-Wan – ever the diplomat – took Padmé's hand. "It's good to see you again, Senator," he said then, upon her frown, amended it to "Padmé".

"You too, Obi-Wan," Padmé replied before shaking Qui-Gon's hand. "How have you been, Master Jinn?" she added. "It's been far too long – I'm glad our paths have crossed again. But I must warn you … I think your presence here is unnecessary."

"I'm sure the Jedi Council has its reasons," Obi-Wan replied, carefully avoiding looking at Qui-Gon, whose eyes were no doubt twinkling with mischief.

Padmé sighed in resignation then tucked a hand through each man's arm and led them to the small settee. "I _am_ glad to see you both, despite my little tantrum," she said and gave a slight shiver. "When I'm alone, I can't help but relive the explosion …"

Recalling that the explosion had taken her friend's life and had been meant for her, Obi-Wan squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said, ignoring Qui-Gon's raised eyebrows.

Padmé gave a shuddering sigh and shuffled closer to Obi-Wan to press a kiss to his cheek. Obi-Wan breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh sweet scent of her hair, before recalling that he was here on Jedi business.

"Our presence here will be near invisible, Milady," he heard Qui-Gon assure Padmé.

"I'm very grateful that you're both here," Captain Typho said. "The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit."

"I don't need any more security," Padmé said then turned to Qui-Gon. "I need answers. I want to know who's trying to kill me. There's something more to this than meets the eye."

"And we'll do our best to provide those answers," Qui-Gon – as the senior Jedi – said. "But our primary mandate is to protect you, Senator."

Padmé favored him with a smile. "Thank you," she said simply. "Despite the circumstances, it really _is_ good to see you – both of you – again."

Qui-Gon returned the smile. "And you, Milady," he replied. He stood up. "If you will excuse me, I'll begin work," he added. "Obi-Wan; would you stay behind with the Senator, please?"

"My pleasure," Obi-Wan said sincerely.

Maybe a little _too_ sincerely, for a long-missing look of mischief appeared on his former Master's face. "Hmmm," he said then bowed slightly to Padmé. "I'll report back to you tomorrow."

Padmé got up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Master Jinn," she said.

The big man blushed like a youngling then strode purposefully out of the door, shadowed by Captain Typho, and Padmé sat back down with a sigh. "He seems so … sad," she commented.

Obi-Wan nodded his head, but didn't comment. Qui-Gon had learned in a very painful way to temper his passions – to embrace the Unifying Force a little more readily. And that loss was still felt by the older man so many years later that it had taken on a life of its own.

"Little Anakin …," Padmé said suddenly, her hand going to her heart. "It's been ten years since he died."

"That's right," Obi-Wan acknowledged soberly. He'd met Anakin Skywalker and his mother Shmi only briefly, but Qui-Gon and Padmé had spent nearly two weeks in their small house in Mos Espa. Qui-Gon had never said anything, but Obi-Wan knew that he'd fallen in love with the mother as much as he'd taken young Anakin into his heart. "But I'd prefer not to discuss it. If Qui-Gon wishes to talk about it, he will."

"Except he won't," Padmé said with remarkable insight. "You Jedi … so stoic and serious. You tend to forget that you're not super-beings."

It was funny, but Obi-Wan certainly didn't _feel_ stoic right now. He was too caught up in Padmé's soft eyes, beautiful face, and petite delicate form – she was simply quite exquisite.

Padmé got up, breaking the moment, and stretched. "Anyway, let me show you where you'll be sleeping, O big strong protector."

Obi-Wan chuckled at the teasing tone in her voice, knowing that he was not all that big for a human male. He was built to be slim and was comfortable with that, knowing that any physical strength he may lose to age would be bolstered by his strength in the Force.

He got up also and bowed slightly. "Lead the way, O petite Senator."

Padmé giggled surprisingly. "Oh, I'll bet you were just awful as a child!" she said.

"Very likely," Obi-Wan replied, recalling the frequent acts of mischief in which he'd indulged with his fellow initiates and later Padawans.

"Very likely …," Padmé echoed musingly. "A certainty," she added. "But thank you for making me laugh – it's been a bad day."

"Things will be better tomorrow," Obi-Wan said, following Padmé into a small bedroom. Very plain and simple, even by Padmé's standards, it was soothing and featured a balcony.

"This room faces the morning sun," Padmé said, "so I thought you'd like it for your morning _katas_."

Obi-Wan simply nodded his head, no longer surprised at Padmé's thoughtfulness and insight. It was simply who she was. "Thank you," he said. "It'll suit me very well, but I hope I won't have to use it for too long."

"Agreed," Padmé said, picking up one of the pillows and plumping it up in a surprisingly domestic move. "Gods know; I like spending time with you, but I'd prefer it to not be at the whim of the Chancellor."

Obi-Wan grinned at that blunt remark – so unusual in a politician – and Padmé went pink. "I'm sure he means well, but I don't need more protectors," she said hurriedly.

"Well, the Chancellor and the Jedi Council think otherwise," Obi-Wan said. He scrubbed a hand over his beard then dumped his holdall onto the chair. "Anyway, I'm sure you have more meetings to attend so …"

"Only two," Padmé said, "and I'm participating via holo seeing as I can't get to Naboo on such short notice. The Queen will need a report about … about …"

She stopped short at that point looking dismayed, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Obi-Wan caught at the moisture and whisked it away with a tenderness he'd never felt before. She was usually so strong and indomitable-appearing that too many people forgot that she was still a young woman with a young woman's sensibilities.

"Can the meeting not wait?" he asked as Padmé dabbed at her face with his handkerchief. He shook his head when she handed back the handkerchief and she tucked it up her sleeve.

"No," Padmé replied. "Cordé's family deserves to hear about her … her death from me – not via tomorrow's newscasts."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, respecting and understanding the young woman's viewpoint. "Of course," he said, a little chagrined. The Jedi were generally less remote since the ban on attachments had been lifted but twenty-some years of indoctrination were hard to overcome.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé's hand shook as she ended the video com to Cordé's family. Her mother had been understandably devastated but hadn't seemed to resent Padmé at all. _Gods, I resent me_, she thought now. _My ambition got a good friend killed._

"I hope you're not blaming yourself," Obi-Wan said and she started. Were her thoughts _that_ easy to read? "Cordé and I spoke sometimes when I was waiting for you – working with you made her extremely happy. It fulfilled her to be part of something more than herself. And she died doing what she loved."

Padmé shook her head. "I don't think I could ever be pragmatic about death the way you are, Obi-Wan," she said. "The day I start being indifferent to death is the day I want someone to destroy me."

Obi-Wan paled slightly and he bit his bottom lip in obvious distress. "I'm not indifferent to death, Padmé," he replied. "But I've learned to accept loss."

"And if Master Jinn had actually died when that Sith Lord impaled him all those years ago?" Padmé pressed. "Are you trying to convince me that you would have accepted _that_?" Padmé didn't believe it. In the aftermath of the Sith's assault, she had seen how much the two Jedi loved each other – their bond seemed like that of brothers.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I never really got to know my birth father. Qui-Gon is the closest thing to a father I've ever had – or will ever have," he said, "and I love him. I would have mourned terribly of course but I _would_ have come to terms with it."

His blue-gray eyes seemed even brighter all of a sudden – as if with unshed tears – and Padmé immediately felt like she'd struck an Ewok cub undeservedly. "Oh, gods, I'm sorry, Obi," she said. "I don't know what to say – I didn't mean to be so horrible."

"I understand," Obi-Wan replied in a low tone, evidently choosing to let the diminution of his name pass. "You've had a very bad day today."

"That's a reason, but it's certainly no excuse," Padmé said, shifting closer to the Jedi and squeezing his hand tightly. "You didn't deserve any of that."

"No," Obi-Wan agreed, returning the squeeze, "but everyone makes mistakes, Padmé. You're still one of my closest friends."

_Friends_, Padmé mused. If friends was all they were, why did his feel so nice against hers? "Well, that's good," she said, putting an abrupt end to her internal meanderings. "I feel the same way."

Obi-Wan looked at her consideringly then slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Rest for a little while, Padmé," he said. "You've nothing else on your schedule for today."

"I'm not tired," Padmé protested although she was, in fact, exhausted. But she dreaded what her dreams would bring her tonight.

Those bright eyes surveyed her once more. "I could offer to keep the nightmares away, but that would only bury them," he said. "However, if you'll allow it, I can link with you through the Force and be with you as an observer."

"Link with me?" Padmé had had no idea that he'd become so powerful. It was actually a little unnerving, to tell the truth. "But I'm completely Force null."

"That's why I'll only be able to observe," Obi-Wan said. "For me to participate would require either a mutual link or …"

"Or …?" Padmé prompted when he seemed reluctant to go on.

"I'm strong enough to force my way into most people's minds," Obi-Wan said, not seeming to realize that he'd twined some of Padmé's hair around his fingers. "But that's rape on a mental level and is utterly repugnant to me."

"I believe you," Padmé said. "And I trust you entirely – with both my life and my mind."

"Then you will try to sleep?" Obi-Wan said, his fingers now rubbing at the base of her skull.

Strong, skilled fingers, Padmé noted irrelevantly, hissing out a breath when he reached the knot of tension on her neck. "Don't stop," she said when he paused, and then she blushed. "Please," she added. "A neck-rub has often helped me – especially when I was Queen."

The fingers resumed their task once more and Padmé breathed steadily in and out. "I can believe that," Obi-Wan said lightly. "Some of those head-dresses you wore probably weighed the same as you."

Padmé chuckled, remembering one particular towering metallic monstrosity that had added ten inches to her height and at least that many pounds to her frame. It had been presented to her by Boss Nass to mark the Nubian-Gungan treaty formed after the Trade Federation's blockade and she'd been obliged, therefore, to thank him prettily and wear the eyesore at every gathering with a Gungan presence. "Mmm. You exaggerate, Obi-Wan, but not by much," she agreed, feeling her eyelids grow heavy.

Obi-Wan gathered up her hair and placed it over her shoulder then resumed his task. The firm kneading slowed to a gentle pressure, becoming dangerously close to a caress.

Startled, Padmé pulled away before she could enjoy the soft touch too much. "Thanks, Obi-Wan – I needed that," she said around a yawn, wondering why she was suddenly so drawn to this man.

Certainly it had been a long time since her last relationship, but a Jedi would be the last kind to indulge in the easy flirtation and passionate kisses that had characterized her relationships thus far. The Jedi she knew that had begun relationships had proven just as dedicated to those attachments as they were to their duties as Jedi.

One of her former suitors had been calling her over the last few weeks to see if she'd like to try again. Darna was handsome, funny, gregarious and was about as ready for marriage as she was – that is to say, not at all. So why, even when she closed her eyes, did bright eyes, fair hair and a soft full beard dance into view?

She recalled thinking Obi-Wan handsome when she'd first met him all those years ago on Naboo, but the exigency of her situation, and the fact that she'd been only 14, had prevented her doing anything about it. She hadn't even been able to develop a full-blown crush on him, having spent far more time with his Master. On whom she'd also had a small crush she recalled now with a slight pinking of her cheeks. At 60 Standard years, Qui-Gon had been old enough to be her grandfather but he'd literally leapt into her life as a hero. And he was so big and powerful looking with the long mane of hair only adding to his impact.

Such a handsome – yet so different – pair was bound to attract attention, and Padmé had watched the holocasts covering their activities with amusement. The interest had only increased after Obi-Wan's knighting and the duo's dedication, caring and quiet heroics had won the public's hearts.

Qui-Gon had handled the attention far better than Obi-Wan, with an unassuming courtesy. Obi-Wan … Padmé had got the feeling that he would have liked to hack through some of his more persistent admirers with his lightsaber.

Such resistance had only inflamed the admirers as effectively as Qui-Gon's gentle refusals, and the pair was highly sought after – both for matrimonial purposes and other more earthy opportunities. One of the more tasteless periodicals had even labeled them "The Do-able Duo", causing Obi-Wan to turn a rich shade of crimson when Padmé had gleefully shown him the article more than a year ago. Yes, she might be a Senator but she wasn't above having a laugh at someone else's expense.

A touch on her shoulder jolted her out of her reverie and she found a handsome bearded face only inches from her own. "Padmé?" Obi-Wan said gently, as if soothing a nervous animal.

"Oh! Sorry," Padmé apologized with a blush, and then was surprised by the massive yawn that escaped her. "I must be more tired than I realized."

"Or were willing to admit," Obi-Wan pointed out annoyingly. Albeit accurately. He seemed to know and understand her even better than her family did.

"Well … that too," Padmé acknowledged with the small moue that her sister still called a pout. "I suppose I should go to bed, though – it's been a long day."

Obi-Wan smiled at her before getting up and extending a hand to pull her up also. "Well …," he said and then paused.

"Well …," Padmé echoed, thinking _Isn't THIS just lovely and awkward?_ Since when had she ever felt awkward around Obi-Wan?

_Since you realized that you're attracted to him_, a little voice inside of her pointed out with a certain malicious glee.

Thankfully Obi-Wan broke the impasse. "Good night, Padmé," he said softly, dipping his head and pressing an almost bashful kiss to her cheek.

Impulsively, Padmé cupped his cheek then caught at his lips with her own, struck by a sudden curiosity to see if they were as soft as they seemed. Before the kiss progressed, however, she stepped backward, her cheeks flaming. "I'm sorry," she said. "That shouldn't have happened." _And it won't happen again_, she told herself sternly.

Obi-Wan's own cheeks were a little pink and he nodded his head. "It's understandable," he said. "Loss can often make one do something they wouldn't dream of in other circumstances."

"Thank you for understanding," Padmé said. "I'm glad you know I'd never use you like that – your friendship is far too important to me." If that were truly the case, though, why could she still feel his lips against hers? It hadn't even been a proper kiss – she'd certainly had far more passionate ones – yet it had shaken her.

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "Your friendship means a lot to me too, Padmé," he agreed. "Well, I'll let you get to bed. If you need me, I'll be there."

Of course he would, Padmé reflected fondly. He was so sweet and dependable … and one of her best friends.

_An incredibly ATTRACTIVE best friend_, that annoying voice inside of her pointed out. It was funny how that voice sounded so much like her sister, who was also prone to pointing out things Padmé would prefer buried.

Padmé shook her head minutely. _Shut up_, she told her inner voice sternly before heading for her bedroom.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan remained standing for several minutes after Padmé had left the living area, his mind dwelling on the impulsive kiss she'd bestowed on him not five minutes earlier. He touched his lips lightly, recalling how soft and sweet Padmé's lips had felt against his, and then shelved the sensation. Padmé had lost someone close to her that day and was feeling mixed up – he really shouldn't make more of the not-quite chaste kiss than it was.

His inappropriate feelings put to one side; he moved to his bedroom and shed his tunic before sitting cross-legged on the floor and beginning his meditation. He had the feeling however that his usual serenity would be hard to find tonight.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ****2**

**Several days later:**

Obi-Wan pushed open the door and was greeted by the noisy chatter of the various species that made up Dex's waitress staff. A Togruta sidled over to him and slipped her arm through his. "Hi, honey," she breathed, her _lekku_ curling sensuously around his neck. "You want to see Dex?"

"Hello, Neela," Obi-Wan replied comfortably, knowing that Neela wasn't at all interested in him – her _lekku_ weren't twitching, a sure sign of arousal in a Togruta and their cousin species, the Twi'leks. "Yes, please."

"Dex; Obi-Wan's here to see ya!" Neela called out then released Obi-Wan with a pat on his rear.

Seconds later, the big Besalisk that owned and managed this diner came out and clasped Obi-Wan's hand between two of his meaty ones. "Get ya a bantha burger and a jawa juice?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Obi-Wan said.

"Hey, Sweetness!" Dex bellowed, causing Obi-Wan to start as he sat down. "Bantha burger and a jawa juice at Table Three!"

"Be right there, Dex!" someone called back. And a woman – presumably the aforementioned 'Sweetness' – came out shortly with the loaded tray, the contents of which she delivered to Obi-Wan. She gave a brief nervous smile then clicked her tongue and began to clear up the table next to Obi-Wan's, muttering under her breath in what sounded like Huttese to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan reached into his pocket and pulled out the small wicked-looking dart that had killed Padmé's would-be assassin the previous night. "Dex; you've been around quite a bit," he said. "The computers at the Temple are having trouble identifying this – they think it must have been made by a warrior not affiliated with any known society."

Dex took the dart from Obi-Wan and examined it, going almost cross-eyed in his attempt. "Well, whaddya know?" he said. "I haven't seen one of these in years – since I was prospecting on Subterrel beyond the Outer Rim. What you got here, my boy, is a Kamino saberdart."

"Kamino saberdart?" Obi-Wan echoed. "I wonder why it didn't show up in our analysis archive," he added skeptically.

"It _is_ Kaminoan," someone said from near him, and Obi-Wan turned and saw the pretty curly-haired waitress nodding her head affirmatively. "I spent a little time in those parts a few years ago, and I recognize the markings." She leaned over and pointed out the notches. "Archive computers can't pick up everything – they can only give out what gets put in."

"Yeah," Dex echoed. "If machines could do everything, I wouldn't need to keep my Sweetness around, now would I?"

The woman blushed hotly and rubbed at a non-existent mark on the table. "You've strange taste, Dex," she mumbled.

"Sweetness; this is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Nice to meet you," the young woman murmured.

"And you are …?" Obi-Wan pressed curiously. Something about her tugged at him – gave him an almost big brother feeling. She wasn't the only attractive female in this diner, but she seemed far less hardened than Neela and the other waitresses, with soft-looking hair, a plump round figure and unusual violet eyes that contrasted startlingly with a pale skin.

"K-Kila Marik," the woman got out.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Obi-Wan said, extending his hand to grasp hers.

To his dismay, the woman went white and stumbled backward. Dex got up with a speed that belied his enormous size and wrapped all his arms around her in a protective gesture that Obi-Wan had never before seen from the rough-edged spacer.

"I'm sorry, Miss," Obi-Wan got out, holding his hands up and feeling the remnants of remembered pain, terror and humiliation emanating from the waitress.

"E … excuse me," the young woman choked out before tearing herself from Dexter's embrace and rushing to the fresher.

"I didn't mean to scare her," Obi-Wan said guiltily. He'd never considered himself particularly intimidating and was baffled at what he could have done to provoke such fear in the young woman.

Dex sighed heavily and squashed himself back into the booth. "She had some problems a few year ago – she ain't never told me but I can tell. She don't like being touched, so …"

"Ah." Obi-Wan nodded his head in understanding. People who had been raped often could not stand to be touched. He shook his head and returned his and Dex's attention to the wicked-looking dart. "Kamino … it doesn't sound familiar. Is it part of the Republic?"

"No; it's beyond the Outer Rim … say about twelve parsecs outside the Rishi Maze. Kind of south. It should be easy enough to find – even for those droids in your Archives."

Obi-Wan picked up the dart again. "You know any more about these …?"

"Kaminoans." Dex caught Kila's hand as she came back and squeezed it. "Y'okay, Sweetness?" he asked, a tenderness in his tone making Obi-Wan wonder if the Besalisk was in love with the woman. He'd certainly chosen far worse in the past by his own account.

The woman nodded and blushed. "Sorry, Dex," she murmured, but seemed unable to look at Obi-Wan. Then she moved to another table, muttered something in Huttese once more and began cleaning that off also.

Dex sighed and returned his attention to the dart. "These Kaminoans … they keep to themselves mostly. They're cloners. Good ones, too,"

"Cloners?" Obi-Wan echoed. "Are they friendly?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On how good your manners are and how big your pocketbook is," Dex retorted with a chuckle.

"In other words, bribery and outrageous flattery should work," Kila put in once more before gathering up the dishes and bustling away.

Obi-Wan smiled at the blunt assessment, but kept it in mind nevertheless.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Later that day:**

Padmé folded her arms across her slight body and looked mutinous – a look with which Obi-Wan was beginning to become all too familiar. "I didn't work for over a year in opposition to the Military Creation Act only to run away and hide while its outcome is being decided," she said.

"Nevertheless," Qui-Gon said with all the patience he could muster, "it will be far safer for you, in light of this second attempt on your life, to go into hiding for a short period of time."

"Please, my lady," Chancellor Palpatine added. "If you won't accept the order of the Supreme Chancellor, heed the advice of an old friend and trusted advisor. Until this murdering coward is unmasked you are in danger with every additional minute you spend on Coruscant."

"The Chancellor's right, Padmé," Obi-Wan put in when Padmé sighed heavily. "Tomorrow afternoon you and I will travel under false papers to Naboo where I can guard you more effectively."

"And I will continue my investigations here," Qui-Gon added.

Padmé sighed once more then ducked her head to examine her dainty shoes. "Very well," she acquiesced quietly, if a little ungraciously. "Well, it seems that I have packing to undertake. Dormé?" She nodded to one of her handmaidens and the two young women left the room quietly, although Padmé's exit had rather more of a flounce than Dormé's. She might be small, Obi-Wan mused now, but she certainly knew how to make an exit.

Palpatine smiled in satisfaction. "She's a sensible young woman," he said. "I knew she would see reason."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed sarcastically. "It just took the collective will of the Supreme Chancellor, a highly respected Jedi Master _and _her best friend to do it."

Palpatine chuckled. "What the female of our species sometimes lacks in brute force, they more than make up for in strength of mind," he said. "That's why she was so popular during her time as Queen. If she said something would happen, then it would happen."

Obi-Wan had to laugh at that. He neither liked nor trusted the politician next to him, but the man was a keen observer of behavior. If he'd been at all Force sensitive, Obi-Wan was certain that he would have become a Jedi. "I can believe that," he said. "Well … I believe I should go and talk to her … try to sooth her."

Palpatine gave another laugh – this one sounding more like a cackle. "How long should we give it until we send in a rescue party, Master Jinn?" he asked.

Qui-Gon smiled faintly, but his eyes twinkled. Whilst Obi-Wan was glad to see his friend enjoying himself once more, he would have preferred such enjoyment not to be derived at his expense. "Oh, I have faith in Master Kenobi," he said now.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes then got up and made his way to Padmé's bedroom where he could hear angry conversation interspersed with muffled thumps. He knocked on the open door and poked his head into the room. "Padmé; I understand your position but please understand _our_ position. I'd hate for these assassins to succeed through our carelessness."

_And I have no idea how I would live without you in my life_, he added to himself.

Padmé's eyes softened and her movements lost some of their quick jerkiness. "I'm sorry, Obi," she replied. "I'm not angry at you or Master Jinn. Or even the Chancellor. I'm angry at …"

"Circumstances?" Obi-Wan surmised.

"Yes." Padmé threw a pair of shoes into the plain brown bag that Qui-Gon had supplied for the journey to Naboo. "I trust Representative Antilles – that he'll act truly on my behalf – but …" She sighed then chuckled suddenly. "I think Jar Jar half expected me to ask him."

Obi-Wan only just managed not to roll his eyes. Padmé's Gungan aide, while he usually meant well, was a trying over-excitable fellow with a grasp of Basic that was truly horrendous. "Oh?" he asked neutrally.

Padmé laughed again. "He's sweet but he does not belong in the Senate," she said. "Picture it."

Obi-Wan tried and failed to imagine the jumpy being addressing thousands of Senators in his awkward speech. "My imagination's evidently not that good," he told Padmé.

Padmé smiled, the last of the choler leaving her features, and then she sighed. "At any other time, I would really be looking forward to this trip," she said as a silent Dormé handed her a long simple dress. "Have you been to Naboo since the blockade?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, his mind taking him back to the sight of that dark being running Qui-Gon through with his double-edged saber. He'd come so close to losing Qui-Gon that day and it had taken both men some time to shake off the nightmares. Even now, Obi-Wan didn't understand how Qui-Gon had survived what should have been a mortal injury.

Padmé – although Force null – seemed to realize what he was thinking, for she reached out and squeezed his hand. "Naboo is very beautiful," she said, "and the lake country at Varykino is possibly one of the loveliest spots."

"I look forward to seeing it," Obi-Wan replied, trying not to enjoy the sensation of her small delicate hand on his larger rougher one.

Padmé smiled then released his hand to push one more dress into the bag. "Done!" she announced, shaking her head as Dormé indicated a closet. "I'm pretending to be poor, remember," she said. "My Senate regalia would stand out rather."

Dormé blushed and nodded her head. "I'm sorry, milady – force of habit," she said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé zipped the large bag shut with a frown that she didn't bother to suppress. She might understand and accept the necessity of leaving Coruscant, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. Although she really shouldn't be taking it out on Obi-Wan, she reflected guiltily. As her bodyguard, he deserved her civility. As her friend, he deserved far more.

Thankfully, his keen Jedi senses and his own sweet nature meant that he was highly unlikely to take umbrage at her churlish behavior. How many times in the last couple of years had he borne the brunt of the Naberrie temper? Padmé had lost track, but knew that it was far too many.

"I understand you might have found a lead on that dart," she said, proffering a peace gesture.

Obi-Wan nodded his head. "Indeed," he said. "I'll get you some caf and tell you if you'd like," he added. "Not that there's much to tell so far."

"Still, I want to know," Padmé said firmly. "I'm mildly interested, considering that someone keeps trying to kill me."

"Sarcastic wench," Obi-Wan scolded, ushering Padmé out of the bedroom into the kitchen, where he switched on the heating unit.

"Don't tell me; sarcasm is your province," Padmé shot back. Beneath the veneer of calm respectability, Obi-Wan had quite the biting sense of humor.

"Precisely," Obi-Wan chuckled, spooning a measure of freeze-dried caf into a cup. He then added the now hot water and handed the cup to Padmé, who had been watching him with fascination. He went pink. "What?" he asked

"I … just hadn't realized you were so domesticated," Padmé said. "I rarely set foot in the kitchen unless it's to get something sweet."

"Sweets for the sweet," Obi-Wan murmured then went bright red.

Padmé decided to take pity on him and chose not to tease him for that obvious cliché. Although the romantic in her – that she tried hard to keep hidden – thrilled to the obviously sincere comment. Instead she took a sip of the scalding liquid and sighed in satisfaction. "Thank you," she said then indicated the living area with a sweep of her arm. "Let's talk," she added.

Obi-Wan – his cheeks back to their usual light tan – nodded his head. They went over to the settee and Padmé took up what had become her customary spot; cuddled in to Obi-Wan. "Well?" she demanded.

"There really isn't much _to_ tell you," Obi-Wan began. "Have you heard of a species called Kaminoans?"

Padmé went through her many lessons in galactic politics but came up blank. "Are they in the Republic?" she asked, a little embarrassed by her ignorance.

"No; beyond the Outer Rim," Obi-Wan said. "My friend Dex recognized the etchings on the dart and a friend of his backed him up."

"And you trust these individuals?" Padmé asked.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Dex may be rough but he'd take a blaster for a friend," he said. "I trust him far more than I do most of the Senate."

"Ouch." Padmé cringed mockingly, although she couldn't deny that she lately felt the same way about many of her colleagues in the Senate.

"You know I don't mean you," Obi-Wan chided mildly. "Anyway; I trust Dex and although his friend is new to me, I'm inclined to trust her too."

"Her?" Padmé echoed interestedly. "Do I detect a hint of romance for our Obi-Wan?" And why was part of her dismayed at that possibility? Obi-Wan deserved to love and to _be_ loved.

Obi-Wan predictably went pink. "No," he replied calmly. "She's quite pretty but … I feel more like a big brother to her. And … I think I scared her."

"How?" Padmé perused the man sitting next to her. Obi-Wan was not intimidating – either in looks or in demeanor. He wore his power so lightly that many people under-estimated him, to their detriment.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "I feel bad about it, though – I don't want to invoke fear in people, Padmé."

"I'd tell you not to feel guilty that would be likely telling the sun not to shine," Padmé said fondly, tamping down on the urge to kiss that crease between his brows. "But rather than stew over it, why don't you go back and apologize?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan said as if that hadn't even occurred to him. "It's too late now, but I'll go tomorrow morning before we leave for Naboo."

"Good," Padmé said, taking another sip of her caf. "So, about these Kam …"

"Kaminoans," Obi-Wan finished for her. "Apparently they're cloners; keep to themselves."

"That's either a very good thing or a very bad thing," Padmé said, although she was interested in the idea of cloning. The Republic scientists had had only limited success in that arena. They'd been able to clone a body easily enough but the beings created had been blank slates; entirely void of thought, personality, everything that made up sentience.

"My little pessimist," Obi-Wan teased lightly. "Anyway, Qui-Gon will research the Kaminoans further while we are on Naboo." He smiled. "Qui-Gon is a very persistent investigator – if he hadn't become a Jedi, I'm sure he would have made a fine law enforcement official."

Padmé smiled at that. "You're pretty persistent yourself, Master Kenobi," she pointed out, recalling several instances where his sheer doggedness and unflappable nature had worn her down, thereby winning him the argument.

Obi-Wan laughed. "And you aren't at all, Madame Army Opposition?" he countered.

Padmé giggled, feeling younger and more light-hearted than she had for many years. This quiet Jedi had a wicked sense of humor. "Beast," she accused mildly, only just resisting the urge to put her tongue out at him.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan responded just as mildly, his eyes dancing.

Padmé settled back into the settee and sipped at her caf with a sigh of contentment. If she could just ignore the fact that she was going into hiding, she knew that she would enjoy her time on Naboo very much. Obi-Wan was so interesting and fun, yet with a maturity that the young men who courted her tended to lack. _Of course he's more mature, you idiot!_, she chided herself. _He IS eleven Standard years older than you!_

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**The next day:**

Obi-Wan pulled his tunic straight then scrubbed his hand over his beard before walking into Dex's and sitting down at a booth. He looked around, trying to find Kila, and then spotted the distinctive mass of curly brown hair.

Her back was to him as she took the order of a particularly rough-looking human but he could hear her laugh in response to some light flirting comment from the customer. Then she rubbed the back of her neck and turned round to face Obi-Wan. She patted the customer's shoulder and bit her lip then made her way over to Obi-Wan. "Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Miss Marik," Obi-Wan said. Never one to beat around the bush, he added; "I came to apologize for upsetting you yesterday."

The young woman's cheeks went pink. "There's no need to apologize, Master Kenobi," she said. "I have some issues but I thought I'd dealt with them." She shrugged her shoulders, rubbed once more at the back of her neck, and then pulled out an order pad. "Can I get you something while you're here?" she added. "I've just made some Corellian flatbread – it's perfect with _kasafruit_ compote."

"That sounds good," Obi-Wan said.

"And how about a caf to go with it?"

"Oh, I'm not very keen on it," Obi-Wan replied.

"That's because you haven't had mine," Kila boasted. "You trusted me about the Kaminoans, Master Kenobi – what's a mild stimulant compared to that?" She grinned at him.

Obi-Wan returned the smile. "You have a point, Miss Marik," he acknowledged. "And please … call me Obi-Wan. I hear 'Master Kenobi'; I keep expecting to see my Padawan."

"Oh. Well, call me Kila in that case," Kila replied. "So … flatbread and compote, plus a cup of caf." She passed the order to one of the waitress droids then used a small cloth to rub at a mark on the table.

"Kila," Obi-Wan echoed obediently and leaned back as the waitress droid placed a plate of flatbread, a small bowl of blue compote and a steaming cup of caf in front of him.

"Are you sure about this?" Obi-Wan asked after staring at the cup for several long seconds. "It took hours for me to get rid of the taste the last time I had one."

"Sweetness makes the best caf in all of Capitol City!" the rough human yelled over, despite only being a few feet away.

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be brave?" Kila said with a small grin.

"Well, I can't let you impugn the Jedi Order that way," Obi-Wan replied, returning the grin. "Oh, Force. Here goes," he added, taking a careful sip of the contents. A medley of flavors hit his tastebuds – equal parts sweet, sharp, bitter and tangy with a heavy nutty background. The other cafs he'd tried had either been watery or bitter beyond belief, with nothing remotely nutty involved. "This is wonderful," he opined before blowing on the liquid and taking a larger mouthful.

Kila smiled smugly – appearing to have completely lost her uneasiness around him. "Good," she said simply. She rubbed at another non-existent spot on the table then sat down opposite Obi-Wan and took a piece of the flatbread, using it to scoop up a measure of the _kasafruit_. "Sorry," she said, "but I didn't have time for breakfast this morning."

"Help yourself," Obi-Wan offered sarcastically.

Kila just chuckled and shook her head. "You have a few minutes to talk?" she asked. "I need a quick break and you seem at a loose end."

Obi-Wan found himself smiling again. He could grow to like this outspoken woman very much. "That sounds good," he said before taking another sip of caf with a pleased sigh.

Then he took a piece of flatbread and followed his new friend's example, scooping up the compote with the bread. The simple snack was surprisingly good, but it didn't quite satisfy the craving he had for something sweet. "What sweet things have you got on the menu today?" he asked.

"Besides our Kila, ya mean?" the big human yelled once more.

Kila's cheeks went pink. "Go and suck vacuum, Ravi," she grumbled, causing the big man to guffaw. "Well, I made some Mandalorian Sweetcake this morning."

"And it's good?"

"Yeah," Dex said gruffly, appearing suddenly and swatting at Kila with a towel. "That's why we call her Sweetness."

Kila blushed once more and ducked her head briefly before grinning up at Dex. It was interesting that she didn't seem at all intimidated by the enormous Besalisk. "I take it my break's over," she said, getting up. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Obi-Wan. Maybe I'll see you again."

"I'll be back," Obi-Wan said. "It may not be very soon as I'm leaving today on a mission, but I _will_ come back."

"Well, take care out there," Kila said. "Just remember; you're not invincible."

"Yes, Mother," Obi-Wan teased, although he was actually touched by the near-stranger's concern for his wellbeing.

Kila chuckled and swatted at Obi-Wan with her cloth. "Brat," she accused. "I feel immensely sorry for whoever had the raising of you."

"Well, thank you very much," Obi-Wan said, enjoying this interaction immensely. "Where's the proper respect for my status?" He preened mockingly.

Kila rolled her eyes. "If I thought you were serious, I'd really let you have it," she said, and then yelped when Dex's hand impacted sharply on her rear. "Men! You're such a trial," she grumbled then danced out of range of Dex's big hands. "Take care, Obi-Wan," she said, picking up some dirty flatware.

"Thank you – I will," Obi-Wan replied.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER ****3**

**En route to Naboo:**

Padmé wrapped her rough brown cloak tightly around her, trying to stave off the cold, and looked at the assorted humans, aliens and droids mingling on the mess deck.

"Hey, you – no droids at the counter!" someone yelled at a little R-unit droid. The droid tootled defiantly and withdrew, but not before blowing an electronic raspberry at the server.

Padmé giggled then sobered when several heads turned to look at her. So much for trying not to draw attention to herself! She looked up as Obi-Wan approached her with two bowls filled with a steaming mush. "It's not very appetizing," he said now, "but it'll fill our stomachs."

"Well … mine at least," Padmé said, taking one of the bowls and sniffing the contents suspiciously.

Obi-Wan made a show of patting his rock-hard abdomen. "Are you saying I'm getting fat?" he teased.

"Not you," Padmé teased right back. "You're a bottomless pit and I can't help wondering when your metabolism is going to catch up with your age."

"So you're _not _saying I'm fat – just that I'm old." Obi-Wan chuckled. "Very nice."

"You're not old, Obi-Wan – you're mature, seasoned."

"Like a cut of nerf steak?" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes comically. "I can't say I feel any better."

Padmé rolled her own eyes, trying desperately to fight down the snort of laugher she felt building up. She settled for banging her pointy elbow into his side instead, causing him to yelp. "You're awful," she accused. "Does your Padawan know just how evil you are?"

Obi-Wan puffed out his chest then grinned, his hand going upward to touch his now smooth chin. "Unlike you, Ahsoka actually has the proper respect for me."

"Hmmm," Padmé said.

"Hmmm?" Obi-Wan echoed. "Don't tell me that I've rendered _you_ speechless."

Padmé was stymied by that so gave in to the urge and put her tongue out at him. "I loathe you," she said. "You're sneaky as well as evil."

Obi-Wan grinned, the action taking yet more years from him. If someone hadn't looked too closely they would have thought he and Padmé were of an age. "Well, thank you, milady," he said, finishing up his portion of mush then nodding at Padmé's bowl.

Padmé got the hint and forced herself to eat a bit more of the unappetizing food. The texture was paste-like, the taste bland and the color … didn't bear to be considered. But she managed to get several more mouthfuls down before her stomach rebelled. She set the bowl to one side, chuckling inwardly when Obi-Wan picked it up and began eating.

Obi-Wan finished Padmé's mush – he truly _was_ a bottomless pit – then shifted. "I have to admit – I have mixed feelings about seeing Naboo again," he said. "It _is_ beautiful but …"

Padmé nodded her head and wrapped her arm around his lean waist in a hug. "But Qui-Gon survived, and is as strong as ever," she said. "And Naboo may not be as you remember it. Time changes perception."

"Sometimes it does," Obi-Wan agreed, looking closely at her then smiling. "Sometimes for the better." He tucked a curl behind her ear in a very tender manner.

"It … ah … it must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi," Padmé blurted out, trying not to reveal how much she enjoyed the way his hand had brushed her cheek. "Not being able to visit the places you like. Or do the things you like."

"I accepted those restrictions when I chose to continue my training at 13," Obi-Wan said, twining a curl around his fingers. "If something is worth having, sacrifices have to be made."

Padmé nodded her head, reflecting how much of her childhood she had lost by going into politics at such a tender age. "You have a point," she admitted, extremely aware of the firm muscles of Obi-Wan's abdomen so near her fingers.

They were too close together. She knew that but couldn't seem to move away. They were in new, dangerous, territory here. Obi-Wan was a Jedi Master, and although Jedi were now allowed …

And what about her? If she gave in to her attraction to this good man, what kind of impartiality could she claim with the Senate's growing control over the Jedi Council? The army, if one was created, would stand with the Jedi, yet Padmé stood _against _that army, and so …

What a mess.

"You were dreaming about Qui-Gon again last night, weren't you?" she said, suddenly noting the shadows under Obi-Wan's eyes. "Will you be all right on Naboo?"

Obi-Wan handed the empty bowls to a red-domed service droid then pursed his lips as if considering the question. "I believe it will be good for me to … face my demons as it were," he said then gave her a beautiful smile. "Thank you for caring so much," he added.

"You're easy to l … care for," Padmé said, horrified by her near slip. Yes; he was easy to love but she didn't love him that way. He wasn't her type and they had little in common.

"So are you." Obi-Wan took a breath then clasped her hands. "Padmé …"

"Please don't." Padmé pulled her hands away, hating to hurt him but knowing it was the right thing for both of them. "You're making me very uncomfortable."

Obi-Wan flushed hotly. "I'm sorry, milady," he said in a formal tone she hadn't heard him direct toward her in years. "I have no wish to make you uncomfortable."

_Too late_, Padmé reflected with a sigh. Why couldn't things have just stayed the same? Why did she have to enjoy his touch so much? Why couldn't her hormones realize that they weren't suited at all?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan walked quietly alongside Padmé, taking in the gentle rustic beauty of the Naboo countryside. Although he traveled regularly, he seldom got the chance to take in the sights, so this was a rare treat for him.

He bent over to examine a flower – a lipswain, he thought – and drank in its heady scent then sighed when Padmé twinkled mischievously at him before she turned away with a hot blush.

He couldn't believe he'd been about to declare his feelings for her, and was glad that she'd stopped him when she so obviously didn't feel the same way. He wasn't naïve – he knew that she felt an attraction to him, but that was not enough. Now in his mid-30s, he was past the age where all he wanted was sexual gratification.

If all he'd wanted was a tumble in the silks, there was any number of women he could have pursued – he wasn't so modest that he didn't realize that they found him sexually attractive. But he wanted to love someone and be loved back. To share his life, a home, maybe even have a family. Unfortunately, his heart had chosen Padmé who did not return his feelings. When he'd fallen in love with her he could not pinpoint, but knew that his heart was the Senator's.

But he resolved to bury his feelings. They did him credit but unrequited love could lead to an obsession … and obsession could be used by the Dark Side.

"There's my house!" Padmé said suddenly, pulling Obi-Wan from his introspection.

He followed her gaze to a large but simple home, surrounded by flowers, vines and hedges. He studied it and smiled as he pictured a tiny Padmé Naberrie stained with berry juices skinning her knees on one of the great trees.

"Come on, Obi-Wan," Padmé added cheerfully, seeming to have recovered from her earlier discomfort. She tucked her hand through his arm and bore him onward. "Don't tell me you're shy, your Jedi Knightness," she teased.

Obi-Wan _could_ be a little shy at times but he wasn't about to admit that. "Of course not," he said, feigning offense. "I was merely enjoying the sights, your Senatorial Petiteness."

Padmé chuckled and smacked his arm. "Beast," she said, her eyes dancing.

Obi-Wan chuckled in return, prepared to utter a scathing retort, but was interrupted by two little girls barreling into Padmé with excited squeals.

"Aunt Padmé! Aunt Padmé!"

Padmé smiled widely, beautifully, and scooped up the two children for a hug. "Ryoo! Pooja!" she cried, twirling them around. "I'm so happy to see you!" Then she put them down and indicated Obi-Wan. "This is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan; my nieces, Ryoo and Pooja."

The younger one, with fair curls and blue eyes, ducked her head and whispered, "Hello". Then she put her finger in her mouth and ducked into her aunt.

The older one – whose darker hair and eyes made him think of a miniature Padmé – was nowhere near as shy. "Hello! I'm Ryoo," she said cheerfully. "I've heard of you," she added. "You a Jedi, an' you work with a real big man with long hair. Is he as big in real life? An' can you do tricks like everyone says? Using a lightsaber must be soooo good! People say you saved Aunt Padmé's life years ago – is it true? Are you a hero? You don't look big or fierce – you look nice." She tucked her hand into Obi-Wan's and continued to chatter on. "So … have you always been a Jedi? Are you really good with a lightsaber? Is it hard to use one?"

Obi-Wan had been through interrogation more than once in his life. But this tiny inquisitor had him stymied. No sooner had he formulated an answer to one of her questions than she had posed several more.

"Are you her boyfriend?" Pooja asked suddenly.

Now _that_ one caught his attention and he coughed uncomfortably, very aware of Padmé's blush of discomfort and the giggles coming from the two little girls. "No," he said. "We're very good friends and decided to take a vacation together. That's all."

Both girls pouted, evidently disappointed. "Oh," they said. Then Ryoo prodded him. "You didn't answer my other questions," she said.

Obi-Wan tamped down on the chuckle. This little girl shared more than physical characteristics with her aunt; that was for certain. "Well, where should I start?" he ruminated.

"At the beginning?" the girl shot back with a giggle, causing her younger sister to giggle also.

"Brat," Obi-Wan accused, scooping her up and flinging her over his shoulder. He held his hand out for the little blonde girl, who surprised him by taking it quite happily, swinging their joined hands widely as they walked along.

Tiny fists pummeled his back. "Obieeee! Put me dowwwwwwn!" came a wail interspersed with giggles.

Obi-Wan looked around dramatically then bent down confidentially to Pooja. "Did you hear that?" he said. "I could've sworn I heard someone yelling!"

Pooja giggled. "You're funny, Obi … Obi …" She evidently stumbled over the Coruscanti name and Obi-Wan resigned himself to the continued diminution of his name. "Ryoo's on your shoulder."

Obi-Wan clicked his fingers, making a big show of being surprised. "Well, how silly of me!" he said. He crouched down to the ground and set a scarlet-faced Ryoo back on her feet, enjoying the merriment on Padmé's face. She looked so much younger, far more carefree, as she laughed with her nieces. She was incredibly beautiful, loving and giving – it was little surprise that he had fallen so hard for her.

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Padmé felt something inside of her stir as she watched Obi-Wan tease her nieces, making them giggle incessantly. She'd always known that he was a sweet caring man, but had never realized before how good he was with young children. Now, _that_ was a man meant for fatherhood – he needed it and deserved it. And a small part of her wished that she could be the one to give him that family.

But she knew that she wasn't ready yet to become a mother. She was far too committed to her work with the Senate and believed that parenthood and politics did not mix well. She conveniently ignored the fact that her good friend, Bail Organa, had recently married and that his wife was expecting their first child.

"Padmé!" The familiar voices broke into her ruminations and she saw her mother and sister come running along the path, their arms wide.

"Mother! Sola!" Padmé exclaimed joyfully, sprinting the short distance and colliding with the two women in a joyful three-way hug. "Oh! It's so good to see you again."

"And you, baby sister," Sola said then put her hand to her heart. "Oh my. And who do we have here?"

Padmé sighed, recognizing that Sola's matchmaking instincts had kicked in immediately and would be working overtime. "A friend," she said flatly. She managed to smile as Obi-Wan came up to them, a small hand tucked into each of his larger ones. "Obi-Wan; these are my mother and sister – Jobal and Sola."

"It's good to meet you," Obi-Wan said courteously.

"Obi-Wan …," Jobal said, a speculative gleam in her eyes that made Padmé sigh once more. "Why do I know that name?"

"He and Qui-Gon Jinn were the Jedi involved in stopping the Trade Federation years ago," Padmé said when Obi-Wan didn't seem inclined to enlighten her mother. Whether that was due to his natural modesty or because he was telling a silly joke to his newest admirers, Padmé couldn't tell.

"Of course!" Jobal Naberrie said. She patted Obi-Wan's arm. "You've changed a little, become more mature. I understand you're a Master now?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, going slightly pink. He really didn't like talking about himself. "I was granted the status of Master about three years ago."

"I'm sure you deserved it," Jobal said, patting his arm once more. "Well … I'm certain you're hungry after such a long journey."

"Oh, don't go to any trouble for me," Obi-Wan said bashfully. "I ate when I was on the ship."

"You ate mush," Padmé said then grinned. "I forgot to warn you that my mother likes to feed people. And as a bottomless pit, you're perfect for her."

"Sadistic, evil woman," Obi-Wan observed with a grin.

Padmé returned the grin, relieved to see that things were returning to what passed for normal between her and Obi-Wan. "Thank you," she replied demurely. "So … does that mean you're _not_ hungry?"

Obi-Wan blushed slightly – had he been twenty years younger, Padmé was sure he would have shuffled his feet. "Well … I can't say that," he replied.

"Good!" Jobal said cheerily then tucked her hand into his arm and bore him away.

"Oh gods, he's adorable!" Sola murmured into Padmé's ear. "How do you manage to stop yourself from mauling him?"

It took all Padmé's considerable willpower not to agree with her sister's assessment. The man _was_ adorable. _And well worth mauling too, I'll bet!_, the evil voice inside her whispered.

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"He's very good with the girls," Sola said later, joining Padmé at the window and watching Obi-Wan showing Ryoo and Pooja some basic saber techniques.

"Yes," Padmé agreed, watching the touching scene. You couldn't fake that kind of rapport – Obi-Wan simply lit up when he was around children. Padmé had seen him with younglings before, but had assumed erroneously that the rapport had been due to their being Force sensitive.

"Are you in love with him?" Sola probed, causing Padmé to splutter on her sip of caf.

"Where did that come from?" she asked, trying to buy some time. She _wasn't_ in love with him, but figured that it wouldn't take much to push her over. And she was determined not to give in to her raging hormones.

"It's the first time you've brought anyone home," Sola pointed out. "He's very attractive and seems so good and kind."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean that I'd fall in love with him," Padmé said. "If that was all it took, I'd be in love with him, Master Jinn _and_ Master Windu. They're _all_ attractive, good and kind."

"Oh. Oh, my." Sola whistled then fanned her face dramatically. "Perhaps I should spend more time on Coruscant." She winked at Padmé.

"What about Darred?" Padmé teased, glad to have deflected Sola's inquiry. Her older sister was nothing if not tenacious.

"I'm married, not blind," Sola said with a saucy wink. "And your Obi-Wan is a very good looking man. Not very big but he looks strong. But he's very young to be a Master already. He can't be more than 26 or 27."

"He's 35, Sola," Padmé said. "He just looks younger without his beard." _And he's not MY Obi-Wan_, she reminded herself.

"Of _course_!" Sola crowed. "I knew he seemed familiar – the baby face threw me off. He's one of the Do-able Duo!"

Padmé giggled. "I'm surprised you read that article," she said. Her sister generally preferred more serious literature.

Sola shrugged. "Everyone needs to look at something nice now and then," she said mildly. "My favorite happens to be handsome Jedi." Then she slapped at Padmé's shoulder, causing her to wince. "You're good, Senator, but I'm better," she added. "Are you in love with him?"

"No," Padmé said truthfully. "But," she added, needing to confide in someone, "I _am_ attracted to him."

"You're fighting it, pushing him away," Sola said shrewdly.

"I'm not ready for anything serious and Obi-Wan deserves better than a fling," Padmé said. "He's my friend first and foremost, and I want him to find someone and be happy."

"Even if it's with someone else?" Sola probed.

"Even if," Padmé confirmed, although she couldn't deny that part of her was dismayed at that possibility. He seemed quite drawn to that waitress friend of Dex's – he'd mentioned her more than once – and maybe he _would_ pursue her. She'd be gaining a wonderful gift, Padmé told herself firmly, trying to ignore the spike of jealousy.

"Well, it's your choice," Sola said, leaning out of the window and staring unabashedly at Obi-Wan's firm rear end. "But personally I think you're mad."

Padmé shook her head slightly but couldn't help joining her sister in admiring the view. The heavy fabric of Obi-Wan's pants clung to his rear, showing off the taut musculature in a way that his Jedi robes usually concealed. When he bent over to pick up the girls in a spontaneous hug, she let slip a sigh of appreciation.

She felt Sola staring at her and went slightly pink before waggling her eyebrows. "I'm only human," she said mildly. It was so good to be home – to be just Padmé once more. She was never freer to be herself than when she was with her family.

Sola chuckled. "It's good to see you again, baby sister – even under the current circumstances."

Padmé sobered and turned to face her sister. "How much have you heard?" she asked.

"Not much," Sola replied, "but enough to worry. Is your viewpoint really so important that you'll risk your life?"

Sola had always been direct – sometimes that annoyed Padmé, but now she appreciated it. "If I don't have my principles, I don't have anything," she said. "And if I start bowing to pressure on this issue, how long will it before I'm in some guild's pocket?"

"Point taken," Sola said. "You're being a lot braver than I would be," she added.

"I'm not stupid, Sola," Padmé said with a sigh, leaning on her hand and watching Obi-Wan as he allowed Ryoo and Pooja to decorate him with flowers. "Of course I'm scared but I'm not going to alter my stance. A Republic army is a mistake and can lead to nothing good. I'm not omniscient but I've never been more certain of anything."

Sola echoed the sigh. "I just wish you were happier," she said. "You seem so serious most of the time except when you're with Obi-Wan. What happened to the giggly adolescent who used to torment me?"

"She became a Queen, lived through the deaths of thousands of her people, and then became a Senator," Padmé said. "That would change anyone – I grew up quickly."

"Mmm," Sola agreed. The blockade ten years ago had had very little impact here in the country and Padmé knew that Sola couldn't truly understand what she'd only seen on the holocasts.

"And I _am_ happy, much of the time," Padmé argued. "I have an amazing career, wonderful friends and a family that loves me."

"But is that enough?" Sola pressed. "You're so wonderful with Ryoo and Pooja – do you never want that for yourself?"

"Occasionally," Padmé admitted, realizing with a start that she hadn't even considered it until Obi-Wan had come back into her life two years ago. "But that's no reason for making such a big change. Besides, I'd like to be married before I have children and there's no-one I want to marry."

"Not even the handsome Master Kenobi?" Sola nudged her. "You two would make beautiful babies."

Padmé shook her head. "I'm not ready," she said. "He's very sweet and has nice lips, but there's more to marriage than a physical attraction."

"Nice lips." Sola pulled back and leered comically at her sister. "What secrets are you hiding, little sister? Tell all!"

Padmé blushed. "I _did_ kiss him a few days ago, but it wasn't a big deal," she admitted.

"Mm-hm," Sola said skeptically. "That's why your cheeks are rosy red. Admit it, Padmé – you wanted to shove him to the nearest flat surface and have your wicked way with him."

Padmé laughed slightly. "Maybe," she acknowledged, reflecting that only Sola could get her to talk so frankly. "But I've never made love before so …"

"Oh." Sola studied Padmé, looking surprised. "I thought you and Leith would have done the deed – you seemed very close for some time."

"We were," Padmé said, "but I didn't love him in the right way." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm no prude, Sola – when I meet the right man I'm sure I'll want to make love with him. But there's more to life."

"True," Sola said, "But you're missing some wonderful passion. Just last night, Darred and I gave the children to Mother and Father. Then we went swimming nude in the Falls and did things that scared the birds." She gave a dirty laugh.

"Oh! Too much information!' Padmé said, clapping her hands over hear ears with a laugh.

"It's a normal part of life," Sola pointed out bluntly. Then she leaned out of the window. "Oh-oh; Father's come home. Is your Obi-Wan ready to meet the father-in-law?"

"Sola …!" Padmé got out, exasperated, and then gave in with a giggle "I'm sure he'll handle it just fine – beneath that shy quiet exterior he has a mean streak. And he's not _my_ Obi-Wan- he's no-one's property."

"Mm-hm," Sola said, rolling her eyes. "Well, I'm sure Mother has cooked enough for fifty as usual, so shall we go and rescue Obi-Wan?"


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER ****4**

Obi-Wan gratefully accepted the heaped bowl that Jobal passed to him. While none of it looked familiar, it certainly smelled good and his stomach growled in happy anticipation.

Padmé, seated next to him, received a smaller bowl and rolled her eyes. "Too much, Mother!" she exclaimed. "I'll never eat all this!"

"Oh, hush," Jobal retorted mildly, rapping Padmé's hand lightly with the ladle. She sat down at the head of the table, the merriment dying away from her face. "We've been so worried about you, my dear," she said.

Padmé frowned. "The media exaggerates," she said shortly. "I'm not in _that_ much danger."

"Is she?" Ruwee Naberrie asked Obi-Wan.

"I'm afraid so, yes," Obi-Wan said, wincing slightly when Padmé dug her nails into his thigh. "And that's why we can't stay too long here."

Ruwee looked at him assessingly then nodded his head. "Thank you," he replied quietly before turning to Padmé, who wore a fearsome scowl. "Wipe that expression off your face, my girl – do you think we'd worry less from half-truths?"

Padmé frowned once more then shook her head. "No; I suppose not," she conceded reluctantly, her nails quitting their pincer impersonation. She patted Obi-Wan's thigh in apology then squeezed his hand gently before picking up her glass of wine.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, willing away the arousal caused by Padmé's patting of his thigh, and then startled when Ryoo and Pooja scrambled onto the chair next to his. "Hi!" They aimed identical cherubic expressions at him.

"Hello, girls," he replied. "I don't think both of you will fit in the one seat."

"Then I get to sit next to you, Obi," Ryoo said confidently. "Pooja's still a baby and she'll make a mess."

"I won't!" Pooja declared indignantly. "Not a baby!"

"Carry on this way and _neither_ of you will sit next to Obi-Wan," Sola said firmly. "You'll go to the corner of the room until you can both stop acting like babies."

The girls pouted almost in unison then Ryoo turned big brown eyes onto Obi-Wan, batting her eyelashes in a way that would make any father dread adolescence. "Sorry, Obi," she said penitently.

Pooja batted her baby blues at Obi-Wan in imitation of her older sister. "Me too, Obi," she echoed sweetly, patting his arm with her chubby hand.

"Rather than fighting, might I suggest an alternative arrangement?" Obi-Wan asked, raising his eyebrows at the girls' mother. She nodded her head and Padmé rose, evidently intent on giving one of the girls her seat. Obi-Wan shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Madame Senator," he said then closed his eyes and concentrated.

Within seconds, two squealing children were suspended in mid-air, one on either side of Obi-Wan. "Better?" he asked the slack-jawed mother.

"See, mom? He _can_ do tricks!" Ryoo got out between her gleeful giggles.

Pooja nodded sagely. "That's cos he's a Jedi," she said.

"That's a useful trick," Sola teased. "Have you ever used it on anyone other than squabbling sisters?"

"Sola …!" Padmé said eyeing Obi-Wan warily, and then squeaked when she and Sola found themselves hovering near Ryoo and Pooja. "Don't encourage him!" she said. "Didn't I tell you he had a mean streak?"

With a chuckle Obi-Wan concentrated once more and brought all four females down to land gently in their chairs.

Jobal and Ruwee chuckled, and Jobal pointed warningly at Obi-Wan. "Don't even consider it, young man," she said. "You may be a Jedi, but I would make your life not worth living."

"Yes, ma'am," Obi-Wan said meekly then dug into his bowl of food. "This is good," he said. "Thank you."

Padmé nudged him. "Evil, sneaky _and_ sadistic," she accused.

Obi-Wan grinned widely, enjoying the mischief in which he had not indulged in a very long time. "Why, thank you, milady." He bowed slightly to her before resuming his meal.

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**Later that day:**

Ruwee Naberrie got up and pulled his shirt straight. "I'm going to go and talk to Obi-Wan," he said.

His wife gave him an amused smile. "He _is_ a Jedi, remember?" she said. "I'm sure he's withstood more brutal interrogations than anything you could inflict on him."

Ruwee gave Jobal an injured look. "I'm not going to 'interrogate' him," he said loftily. "There's something between him and my youngest daughter, and I don't want her to be hurt."

He received another amused smile. "I don't believe Obi-Wan would ever do anything to hurt Padmé," she said. "He's a good man."

"Yes," Ruwee agreed, "but he's also a Jedi …"

"He's still a man," Jobal interrupted, "and Jedi have been allowed attachments for a while now."

That stopped Ruwee in his tracks. He paid little attention to the maneuvering and politicking on Coruscant, and still couldn't understand how Padmé had come by her passion for politics. "Oh?" he said neutrally. "Well, perhaps I'll go and speak to him anyway," he said.

"As you wish, dear," Jobal said mildly.

Ruwee didn't have to look at his wife to know that she was rolling her eyes. "I did the same to Darred when Sola brought him home, and he still wanted to marry her," he pointed out. "I'm not some fearsome monster – just a concerned father."

With that, he dropped a kiss onto his wife's raised face then made his way outside to where Obi-Wan was playing some sort of pack animal to Ruwee's grand-daughters. Despite his desire to be a stern father, he found himself smiling at the sight. Obi-Wan had endless patience with the two rambunctious little girls and seemed to truly enjoy their company. "Obi-Wan; may I have a word with you in private?"

Obi-Wan got up – Ryoo and Pooja dangling from his back. "Of course," he acquiesced. "All right, girls – shoo for now," he said, lifting them to the ground.

Ryoo stuck out her bottom lip, about to protest, but quailed at the stern look she received from Obi-Wan. "Okay," she said and took Pooja's hand. "See you soon, Obi?" Then the two little girls ran off, probably bent on more mischief.

Obi-Wan brushed some grass off his person then put his hands behind his back. "You want to talk about Padmé," he said.

"Yes," Ruwee said without surprise – it _was_ fairly obvious. "I never thought I'd be saying this to a Jedi Master of all people, but what are your intentions toward my daughter?"

"To protect her and be her friend as long as she'll let me," Obi-Wan said easily enough.

Yet he went pink, raising a warning signal in Ruwee's mind. "Is that all?" he probed.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'll be honest with you, sir," he said. "I do feel more for your daughter than simply friendship, but she doesn't, so …"

"And that's enough?" Ruwee pressed.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "My feelings, if known, would only cause her pain, and I would never want that. She's one of the greatest friends I've ever had and I'm determined not to ruin that."

"So, Padmé has no idea that you feel this way?" Ruwee asked, finding himself feeling sorry for the younger man. His open, guileless face gave away his feelings for anyone to see. _If_ they looked properly.

"She knows I'm attracted to her," Obi-Wan said, his face now scarlet, but his eyes not wavering in their steady regard. "And … I believe she's attracted to me too, but she doesn't want what I want."

"And what do _you_ want?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "I love her – am in love with her," he admitted. "I want it all – marriage, a home, children … I don't know if Padmé wants that at all, let alone with me. She's a young woman still, has her whole life ahead of her."

Ruwee gave a bark of laughter, causing Obi-Wan to stare at him in astonishment. "I'm fifteen years older than Jobal," he said, "and Darred is nearly twenty years older than Sola. Age means nothing to the women in this family – believe me."

Obi-Wan smiled then sighed once more. "I will protect Padmé with everything in me," he said. "Any pain she may experience in her life will not be my doing – I can promise you that, sir."

"That's good enough for me," Ruwee said. He held out his hand and Obi-Wan shook it briskly. Obi-Wan stood several inches shorter than Ruwee and was built on a slimmer scale, but there was strength of both body and mind in that firm clasp. "Now, I'd better go back to my wife before she thinks you've turned me into a giant space slug or something."

Obi-Wan laughed aloud at that. "I may be strong in the Force, but I'm not _that_ strong," he said merrily, his eyes dancing. "I could levitate you, though, if you wish."

"Ah … no, thanks," Ruwee said with a barely contained shudder. He hated heights. Then he caught the wicked look on the younger man's face and realized that Obi-Wan must have guessed it already.

He liked this young man immensely. He was so good for Padmé – didn't stand in awe of her, stood up to her when necessary, yet was gentle and giving. Padmé could be so happy with this man if she would only open her eyes to look past her Senatorial robes!

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**Later that day:**

"_This_ is a holiday home?" Obi-Wan said in disbelief.

Padmé looked at the familiar place, seeing it through Obi-Wan's eyes. Large, built out of stone and wood with none of the hard angles characteristic of the architecture on Coruscant, it was set amongst the lush countryside of the lake country of Varykino. Birds sang sweetly, flowers filled the air with rich loamy scents and placid herds of _shaak_ grazed here and there.

"The Queen usually has a large retinue, if you'll recall," she said, wondering why she'd never realized before just how _romantic_ this place was.

"Mmm," Obi-Wan agreed, his sharp eyes assessing the place for hidden threats and areas of vulnerability. "It's beautiful," he added, directing that sharp-eyed look to one of the Queen's man-servants who lifted up Padmé's bag.

Padmé sighed when the old man took a step backward, eyeing Obi-Wan uncertainly. "Obi-Wan this is Rélan – he's served the Queen for years." She knew that Obi-Wan was just doing his job, but she wasn't going to let him scare this sweet grandfatherly old man who had always brought her fresh _kula_ berries from the orchard.

"Miss Padmé," Rélan said, bowing over her hand. "You look well. A very nasty business on Coruscant, but I'm glad to see you again."

Padmé had been the fifth Queen for whom the sweet old man had worked, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that she was his favorite – that he saw her as the grandchild he'd never had. "It's good to see you too, Rélan," she replied, squeezing his hand. "How are the _kula_ berries today?"

"Not quite ripe, Miss Padmé, but they'll be wonderful in a couple more days. You and your young man must try some." His old, but still shrewd, eyes flickered over to the impassive Obi-Wan, who was now surveying the interior of the house. "So … son; are you still a Knight or have you been granted Master status?"

Obi-Wan visibly started and Padmé chuckled. No-one had ever been able to hide anything from Rélan, and she'd often wondered if he was Force sensitive. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows then admitted, "I've been a Master for three years now. What gave me away?" Then he smiled. "You're quite strong in the Force – have you ever been tested?"

"Yes," the old man said. "I grew up in the Temple, but I chose not to stay in the Order when I reached 18. I wanted to marry my Mali and have children, and that was forbidden at the time." His eyes lit up as he referred to his wife. "You have it much easier, young man, and you're very fortunate to have this beautiful young lady by your side."

Padmé and Obi-Wan both went pink. "We're not together that way, Rélan," Padmé protested. "Obi-Wan's my friend and is acting as my bodyguard."

"Mmm," Rélan said doubtfully, his eyes twinkling beneath his bushy eyebrows. "If that's truly the case then why are you holding hands?"

Padmé dropped Obi-Wan's hand as if it had burned her and blushed. She hadn't even realized she'd taken his hand! They often hugged affectionately but holding his hand was something else altogether!

Rélan took them up the stairs and indicated the royal suite. "The Queen instructed that you were to have your old suite, Miss Padmé. There is a smaller room adjoining that will suit you, Master …"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, but please call me Obi-Wan," the Jedi said easily, shaking the old man's hand. "And this small room suits me just fine, thank you."

"Yes; thank you." Padmé pressed an affectionate kiss to the old man's wrinkled cheek.

"Oh, you're very welcome, Miss Padmé." Rélan beamed at her then bowed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, a majordomo's work is never done."

Padmé turned to her bag and began hauling out her clothing. "He was a Jedi … That explains why I could never get anything past him when I served as Queen."

"He's one of the Lost Twenty," Obi-Wan said then sighed and picked up one of Padmé's dresses, hanging it up neatly.

"The Lost Twenty?" Padmé bobbed her eyebrows inquisitively at Obi-Wan.

"Only twenty Jedi have ever resigned from the Order," Obi-Wan explained, "usually because of an attachment or the wish for one. Count Dooku was the most recent one, but he claimed no such attachment."

Obi-Wan sounded sad, so Padmé made herself listen. She still thought Dooku – or at least his Separatists – was responsible for the attempts on her life, but his former colleagues on the Jedi Council still admired him, believing his leaving to be motivated by idealism, not personal profit.

"I didn't know him well, but he was a good friend to Qui-Gon when he was a youngling," Obi-Wan continued. "Qui-Gon and he are similar in some ways, but Qui-Gon learned to temper his passions. Dooku was always in a foment about something. It makes him a good, if trying, ally and an obdurate foe."

He picked up another dress and hung it up just as neatly then straightened the hem with a flourish that made Padmé giggle. "What?" He regarded her suspiciously.

"How is it I never realized until now what an obsessively neat person you are?" Padmé asked.

Obi-Wan smiled as he folded up a pair of flowing pants and put the garment in a drawer. "The same way that I only just found out that _you_ are a slob, Milady," he teased. "We may have been friends for a long time, but we've never shared living space before."

Padmé tried and failed to look indignant then gave in with another giggle. She'd never been the tidiest of beings, and having a large retinue of handmaidens for the past ten years hadn't helped in that regard. She put her tongue out at him. "You're so mean," she said.

"And so correct," Obi-Wan shot back, his eyes dancing merrily.

"Beast."

"Slob."

"Obsessive."

"Brat."

Padmé threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, that's fighting talk, Jedi!" she declared.

"Well, do your worst, Senator!"

Obi-Wan laughed and turned away, only to grunt when Padmé crashed into him, knocked him onto the floor and … proceeded to dance her fingers up and down his torso, leaving him helpless with laughter. She drove her hands up inside his shirt, encountering soft skin and firm muscles, and then dug in her fingers, tickling him for all she was worth.

Obi-Wan was now scarlet from laughter and tears streamed down his face. "E…enough!" he choked out, grabbing her hands as they renewed their assault. Padmé grinned down at him, reveling in the boyish laughter, his mussed hair and bright eyes. He was so often serious and sober, seeming older than his years, that it was a privilege to see him like this.

His hands tugged gently and she found her face mere inches from his. Unable to resist him any longer, she closed the gap between their mouths and sighed when their lips joined. Part of her – the Senator – was screaming "Mistake! Huge mistake!" but the woman in her was stronger.

And it was the woman that swept her tongue along the gap between Obi-Wan's lips, urging him to allow her in. Which he did, and Padmé moaned when their tongues connected, dueling gently, while their lips brushed against each other's just as gently.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment and Padmé sprang from Obi-Wan as if she'd been caught out doing something terrible. "_Yes_?" she asked impatiently as Obi-Wan rolled smoothly to his feet, tugging at his disheveled clothing and hiding that wonderful firm abdomen. "Come in," she said politely.

The door opened and Mali, Rélan's wife of sixty years, walked in. "Miss Padmé …," she said. "Let me look at you, my sweet."

"Mali – it's so good to see you," Padmé said and meant it, even though the old lady had unwittingly interrupted the best kiss Padmé had ever experienced.

"And you too, Miss Padmé," Mali replied, opening her arms and drawing Padmé into a hug. Then she held her out at arm's length. "You look so beautiful my dear – you simply glow." Then her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Could the man with rouge on his lips have something to do with that?" she teased.

Obi-Wan went pink and pulled out a handkerchief to rub at his mouth, removing the traces of rouge left on him from their kiss.

Padmé went pink also but couldn't help laughing. Mali and Rélan had known her too long – she'd never felt shy around them. "Don't tease," she scolded playfully, peppering the old woman's cheek with kisses. "Do I smell fritters with _muja_ compote?"

"No," the old lady replied.

"_Could_ I smell fritters with _muja_ compote?" Padmé wheedled, hugging Mali's arm.

"Oh, all right." Mali gave in and untangled her arm from Padmé. Then she went over to Obi-Wan. "You're a Jedi?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You care for this one?"

"Very much."

Padmé felt something inside her stutter at that simple yet strong declaration. Obi-Wan had never been one for long flowery speeches – that blunt declaration was very typical of him.

"Well … good," Mali said. "Fritters and compote for two, then?"

Padmé was about to protest, recalling how much Obi-Wan had eaten at her parents' house, when she saw him nod his head. "That sounds good, thank you," he said now.

Padmé muffled her giggles as Mali left the room. "You really _are_ a bottomless pit!" she said. "I feel so sorry for the Temple cooks – how do they keep up?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "And you say I have a mean streak!" he accused, tugging at one of her curls.

"You do," Padmé said then ran her fingers over his smooth chin. "Obi …"

That was all she managed to say before she gave in and tugged his head down, fusing their lips together once more. This kiss was nowhere near as sweet as their previous one; their lips burning against each other, their tongues dueling and parrying, fighting for control.

She slipped her hands up inside his shirt, exploring the lean smooth musculature of his back. Then she moaned when his hands found their way inside her own shirt, battle-roughened fingers exploring her narrow waist and brushing the outer curves of her breasts. "Obi …," she got out around his busy mouth, shaking.

"Mmm?" He nipped gently at her bottom lip and continued his exploration, hands now curving over her clothed rear and pressing her intimately against him.

He was aroused – very much so – and her shaking intensified. She wanted this man but it was too much too soon. Also; she had the feeling that if she encouraged him, he'd fall in love with her. And that was bad because she didn't feel the same way. Too many beings confused sexual attraction with love and it never led to anything good.

"Obi-Wan!" With a supreme effort she wrenched herself away from him, her lips swollen and tender and her chest heaving. "That … that shouldn't have happened," she said firmly.

Obi-Wan looked deliciously ruffled – damn him! – and tugged his clothing straight. "Perhaps," he agreed huskily then coughed. "But I can't bring myself to feel sorry about it," he added forcefully.

Padmé smiled slightly – he was unwittingly echoing her own sentiments – then frowned. "Maybe so, but it can't happen again," she said. "I don't want to hurt you, but … you seem to want more than I can give." She pulled at one of her curls in a nervous gesture that would have surprised her if she'd been aware of it.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I understand," he said gently.

Looking at his sweet face, his bright eyes and passion-swollen lips, Padmé was sorely tempted to maul him again. But she stepped away from temptation and opened the door, smelling _muja_ compote. "Anyway …," she said awkwardly, "it smells like Mali has our food ready."

"Then after you, milady," Obi-Wan said.

"Naturally," Padmé teased, but the joke fell flat, leaving an awkward silence between them that made her want to scream. Why did things have to change? Why had she given in to her attraction to this man? She was a Senator for the Republic, had been Queen for eight years – surely she was stronger than her base desires!

Obi-Wan put a light hand to the small of her back to usher her out, and she shivered as need flared once more inside of her. But she would _not_ give in to it, she vowed.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER ****5**

**The next day:**

Obi-Wan frowned as he mulled over the unwelcome intelligence Qui-Gon had given him not half an hour earlier. A planet had been deleted from the Archives – who but a member of the Jedi Council had the authority to do that? A very disturbing development indeed.

Qui-Gon had advised Obi-Wan to stay on Naboo – he would take a small fighter and go to the mystery planet to shed some light on the matter. Obi-Wan had passed on Kila's advice concerning the Kaminoans, causing the older man to let out a hearty laugh, the like of which Obi-Wan hadn't heard from Qui-Gon in years. "I've heard they can be difficult to talk to," he said. "She sounds like a wise woman."

The frown lifted as Obi-Wan looked ahead of him to see Padmé rolling up her pant legs to paddle at the edge of the lake. The waters lapped around her toes, causing her to giggle like a youngling, and Obi-Wan smiled at the innocent moment. "Come on, Obi!" she called. "You won't melt!"

Obi-Wan grinned helplessly, glad that the awkwardness of the last day seemed to have dissipated. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, remembering their passionate embrace of the day before, and then shelved the memory. Padmé wasn't ready for anything serious between them and he was determined to respect her wishes.

He made his way down to the lake and rolled up his own pant legs, shucked his boots and socks, and then stepped into the cool water. "So … what now?" he asked, feeling more than a little foolish. He hadn't paddled since he was an initiate and was pretty certain that Padmé would _not_ appreciate being shoved in.

Padmé chuckled. "Now we walk, you silly male!" she chided. She bent gracefully and scooped up a smooth round pebble then released it with a flick of her wrist to skim across the surface of the lake, bouncing several times before landing.

She passed Obi-Wan another pebble and he skimmed it. Or attempted to. It bounced once then sank with an ignominious _plop_.

Padmé laughed. "The great Jedi Master can levitate two grown women but can't skim a pebble?" she taunted.

"Not all _that_ grown, your Senatorial Shortness," Obi-Wan retorted. "And size makes no difference – there is no difference between that tree and that boulder, that boulder and you." Except that Padmé's curves were a lot nicer to hold than a boulder would be. He closed his eyes and concentrated then opened them to see Padmé's shocked expression as _both_ pebbles skipped back across the lake to land in his waiting hand.

He made a great show of examining the pebbles before presenting one to Padmé with an ostentatious flourish. "A gift for you, milady," he said with a grin.

"Show-off," Padmé muttered then surprised Obi-Wan by tucking the pebble into a pocket. She went pink. "A keepsake for when we have to go back to the real world," she said defensively.

"I wasn't criticizing," Obi-Wan said gently. "It's nice to see this side of you, that's all."

"Oh." Padmé sighed then shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry," she murmured. "I always feel so … free when I'm at home," she said. "I love my work, don't get me wrong, but it _is_ nice to just be Padmé Naberrie once in a while rather than Senator Amidala for the Chommell Sector."

"I can understand that," Obi-Wan said truthfully. Ever since the Naboo blockade, the media had shown an embarrassing degree of interest in him, giving him such absurd epithets as "The Negotiator" or "The Hero With No Fear". Now that last one was ridiculous. Only fools had no fear and Obi-Wan was anything but a fool. "And I like Padmé," he added. "Senator Amidala and Queen Padmé are nice, special people but Padmé Naberrie is a new side to you that's just as special."

Padmé smiled up at him. "And I like Obi-Wan as well as Jedi Master Kenobi and the Hero With No Fear."

Obi-Wan snorted. "The media was evidently raving the day they coined that one," he said. "Do you know how much teasing I took from Qui-Gon when he saw that headline?"

"A lot," Padmé guessed. "In many ways but blood, you and he are brothers. And siblings torment each other – trust me on that."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, wondering if he should tell Padmé about his half-sister. Then decided that now wasn't the time. But he _would_ tell her before they got back to Coruscant. After a rocky start to their relationship, Qui-Gon had become his mentor, his father, his best friend and his brother all rolled into one. They no longer spent as much time together now that Obi-Wan was a Master and had a Padawan of his own, but were still often paired for missions – their differing methods of accessing the Force complementing each other.

Obi-Wan risked missing the little things while concentrating on the Unifying Force, and Qui-Gon's affinity with the Living Force meant that he sometimes didn't think things through before plunging ahead. Even though he'd learned to embrace the Unifying Force more since losing the Skywalkers, he was still inclined to allow his instincts to dictate his actions.

This investigation was an excellent case in point. The Council had _not_ asked Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to investigate the assassination attempts, but Qui-Gon had argued with Obi-Wan that protection was a job for local security and, therefore, investigation had been implied as a secondary mandate.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. If only Qui-Gon could follow the rules, he could have been admitted to the Council ten, even fifteen years ago! But though Obi-Wan was often frustrated with the older man, he loved him and wouldn't have changed him for worlds.

"Hello?"

Padmé waved a hand in front of Obi-Wan's face, and he realized with a start that he was wool-gathering. Perhaps he should work on his connection with the Living Force. "Oh, sorry," he apologized. "You're right, though – Qui-Gon _is_ like an older brother, and he does torment me."

"And you don't torment him?"

"He doesn't give me cause to," Obi-Wan reflected ruefully. The older Jedi had little personal life, preferring to avoid romantic entanglements since losing Shmi Skywalker. The women he bedded were few and far between, and for sexual release only. And he made sure that they were aware of his feelings – or lack thereof – before anything happened between them. It didn't seem to impact on his ability to attract women of all ages and from all walks of life.

Obi-Wan couldn't truly approve of the man's behavior but he was always honest and wasn't promiscuous. Obi-Wan wished he could settle down, though – Qui-Gon was a loving man and deserved more than the very occasional night of sexual gratification he allowed himself.

"Well, that isn't fair!" Padmé declared with a laugh.

"I'm a very patient man," Obi-Wan said with his best fiendish grin. "I can wait."

Padmé nudged him affectionately. "You're just a little bit evil, aren't you?"

"Maybe. A little," Obi-Wan allowed, adopting a cherubic expression and clasping his hands together. "Although, as a Jedi, I really shouldn't be evil."

"It makes you more interesting," Padmé said. "I wouldn't be comfortable having a paragon of virtue as my best friend."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Really, after knowing me for two years, shouldn't you be able to tell when I'm joking by now?" he inquired, resisting the urge to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

Padmé sighed and rolled her eyes upward. "Horrible male – I can't think why I like you so much," she grumbled, jabbing her elbow into his side.

Obi-Wan winced – the young woman truly didn't know her own strength, and her playful jabs and punches could actually be quite painful. "Well, what would life be without a little mystery?" he responded, his hand somehow finding its way to that loose curl and tucking it behind Padmé's ear. It seemed that his hand had a mind of its own.

That hand then stroked her cheek – gods, her skin was incredibly soft – and Padmé's hand reached up to cover it. "Obi … we can't," she said

"Yes; we can," Obi-Wan countered gently. "But you're scared. Of what?"

Padmé's brown eyes narrowed and then she sighed. "I don't want to … give you false hope," she said. She stepped away slightly and went pink. "You're such a loving, giving man and … and you deserve more than some fleeting physical encounter. You and I … we could never work out in the long term. We have so little in common and that can make for a good friendship, but …" She sighed once more, having lost her customary eloquence.

"It sounds like you've thought about this," Obi-Wan replied sadly. He didn't believe that opposites _always_ attracted – sometimes they _did_ repel – but his and Padmé's differences complemented each other.

But she didn't believe that – seemed determined that she would only hurt him if they gave in to the attraction between them. "I'm a grown man, Padmé, and more than capable of looking after myself," he said. "We could take things slowly; get to know each other as more than friends …"

"No," Padmé interrupted. "I'd like to have sex with you – I'm not stupid enough to deny that – but that's _all_ it would be. You're the kind of man who … you'll give your heart before your body."

Obi-Wan nodded his head. "I'm past the stage where all I want are physical encounters," he said, reflecting once more on Qui-Gon who was nearing 70 Standard years and still limited himself to purely physical acts. He and Qui-Gon were very different men, though. Unlike Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan hadn't learned to fear emotional intimacy.

"I feel the same, Obi," Padmé said. "That's why I'm saying no. If I ever _do_ have sex with someone, I want to be in love with them."

Obi-Wan was surprised. Padmé was incredibly beautiful and passionate – to find that she was still untouched at 24 was unexpected to say the least. "Well … I hope you _do_ find someone you can love," he said sincerely if a little sadly.

"I'm in no hurry," Padmé said, "but thank you, Obi." She patted his hand then frowned and snatched her hand away. "Sorry," she mumbled, going pink. "I … ah … I think I'm going to go back inside for a while – it's getting warm."

"All right," Obi-Wan replied, realizing that she felt just as awkward as he did right now.

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Padmé sighed heavily as she made her way back to the house. It wasn't fair … why couldn't things have stayed the same? Why had sex suddenly come into the equation? She'd been close friends with Obi-Wan for two years … why _now_, for kriff's sake?

The worst thing was that she was hurting him with her contradictory behavior. One minute she was kissing him as if there was no tomorrow, and the next she was pushing him away. It was cruel and she'd never realized that she could do that to anyone. Particularly someone as wonderful as Obi-Wan. He deserved far better, even though he didn't seem to realize that. He'd never had a great opinion of himself.

She turned back to look at Obi-Wan one more time, and she gasped when the sun caught his hair, imbuing the reddish strands with gold. It was like the sun emphasized his inner light, making him glow both without and within.

"Ugh," she groaned. _Khest, Padmé – you sound just like a foolish adolescent mooning after the boy next door!_ She was 24 and Obi-Wan 35 – they were both adults and long past adolescence. Yes; he was attractive – incredibly attractive – but she'd never let her hormones do her thinking before, and she wasn't about to start now.

Turning away from Obi-Wan – and the temptation he posed – she made her way back into the house, enjoying the cool air of the house on her flushed cheeks. She hadn't been lying to Obi-Wan when she'd said it was getting hot out there, but how much of her flushed state was caused by the sun and how much by Obi-Wan she couldn't decide.

She made her way slowly up the stairs, wincing at the soreness in her feet. She'd left her shoes back at the lake and some of the ground had been quite rough going. _Oh well_, she mused, _you've had a lot worse than sore feet, Padmé – live with it._

Nevertheless, she couldn't help but let out an appreciative sigh as she reached her bedroom and wriggled her toes in the plush carpet. She made her way over to the closet and pulled out a fresh pair of pants – the ones she was wearing were damp from her paddling. She changed quickly into the clean pants, throwing the others into the basket for the auto-fresher, and then ran a comb through her hair before tying it back into a loose knot that would nevertheless hold for hours yet.

She looked in the mirror out of long years of habit and then stuck her tongue out at her reflection. She was hiding out in the Naboo countryside with a retinue of servants and a Jedi – who was she trying to impress?

_Do you REALLY want the answer to that one, Padmé?_

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**That evening:**

Obi-Wan sighed and sank back into his chair, patting his lips with a napkin. "That was good," he said. "But if I keep eating like this, I think you may have to _roll_ me out of here when it's time to return to Coruscant."

Padmé chuckled at that image and shook her head. "I can't see you ever getting fat somehow," she replied. His slim form didn't seem vulnerable to weight gain, and his own discipline wouldn't allow him to get fat anyway.

Obi-Wan patted his flat stomach and smiled at her. "Well, thank you for that," he said. "But you didn't know me when I was an initiate – I was actually quite chubby. I've always enjoyed my food and I didn't know when to stop eating."

"And how is that any different from now?" Padmé inquired mischievously.

Obi-Wan poked his tongue out at her. It was funny how he seemed to become more juvenile the more time he spent with her. "Evil woman," he said mildly. "It's a matter of intake versus outtake," he added. "I actually don't eat any more now than I did then, but I'm quite a bit taller now and I keep very active."

Padmé's mind immediately supplied many ways in which he could keep active and she cursed silently, shoving the thoughts back into the sewer from whence they came. "I suppose," she said non-committally. "You're not exactly a man of leisure." Then she chuckled. "I keep trying to picture you just lying on a beach doing nothing."

"And …?"

"And the picture always ends with your head imploding."

And now Obi-Wan chuckled. "You're probably right," he said. "Qui-Gon once convinced me to take a week's vacation on Alderaan – after two days I nearly cried with relief when I was summoned back to Coruscant for your swearing-in."

"Should I feel bad that I interrupted your vacation?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "As we've already established, I'm not much of a vacation type." Almost as if to illustrate his point, he got up and began gathering up the serving platters and cutlery, causing Padmé to smile. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Padmé denied hastily, wiping the smile off her face. He really _was_ a neat freak – how had she never realized that before? It was actually endearing rather than annoying, she decided as he took the platters back to the serving hatch and handed them to one of the serving staff.

The young woman accepted the dishes and bobbed a small curtsy to Obi-Wan. "Thank you, sir," she said, "but you didn't need to do that."

"Oh, I didn't mind," Obi-Wan replied. "I'm not the kind to let people do things for me when I'm perfectly capable of doing so myself." He smiled at the young woman – barely a teenager – and handed her the cutlery as she went a bright pink.

The young woman bobbed another curtsy and coiled some hair around her fingers in a coquettish manner. "Thank you," she said then made her way back into the kitchen, letting out a giggle.

Padmé smiled again – gods; had she _ever_ been that young? – and Obi-Wan regarded her quizzically once more, taking his seat next to her. "What?" he asked.

Was he really _that_ innocent of the effect he had on people? Women, young and old, were drawn to the Jedi. The older ones wanted to mother him, the younger ones craved something else entirely. "Sorry," she said. "I think that young girl has a crush on you," she added.

Predictably, Obi-Wan turned pink. "But … I'm twice her age!" he got out.

"I liked older men when I was her age," Padmé pointed out. "And besides, without that beard, you look quite a bit younger than 35."

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his chin. "That's why I grew it," he said. "I … needed to look more my age once I became a Master."

Padmé examined the handsome face in front of her. It was a little more mature, more weathered, than when they'd met ten years earlier, yet there was something still … innocent in his expression. Well, maybe not _innocent_, she decided, thinking about his wicked sense of humor, biting sarcasm and passionate touches.

Feeling her skin burn at the memory of those passionate touches, Padmé decided that a change of subject was in order.

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Obi-Wan frowned when Padmé blushed slightly – what had brought that on? They'd been getting along well for the last few hours, appearing to have gotten over the awkwardness of the moment down by the lake. He hadn't said anything regarding their relationship – or lack thereof – and there'd been no flirtation from either one of them, so he was ignorant as to what had caused the blush.

She twined a curl around one of her fingers and then pushed the lock behind her ear. "So … can I get you some caf or something?" she asked.

Obi-Wan's first instinct was to say 'No', but then he recalled the incredible taste of the caf that Kila had made for him. "All right," he said. "Thank you."

Padmé nodded to one of the servants – not the young girl he was glad to see – and the man came over and poured out two cups of caf. Obi-Wan didn't think he'd _ever_ get used to having someone wait on him, but Padmé accepted it graciously – as if it were her birthright. "Thank you," Padmé said as the man stepped away from the table.

"You're welcome, milady," the man replied with a short bow before making his way to the back of the room.

Obi-Wan took a cautious sniff of the caf before sipping it. It wasn't quite as good as Kila's – not having the mysterious nut flavor – but was very tasty nevertheless. "Mmm," he opined, taking a larger mouthful of the hot liquid.

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Padmé watched, fascinated, as Obi-Wan took a cautious sip. His eyes rolled back in his head and a blissful expression appeared on his face. He took a bigger mouthful and a low hum of approval issued from his mouth. She shifted uncomfortably, unable to stop herself wondering if that's what he would sound like in bed. All rumpled and sleepy, eyes bright with passion, chin rough from a day's growth …

_And … let's not go there!_, she scolded herself, feeling her skin flush again. No matter how strict she tried to be with herself, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about what he would be like in between the silks. She'd gotten a little taste during their previous kiss and now she wanted more.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked gently.

"Yes; thank you," Padmé replied, yanking her mind out of the gutter that it seemed to want to occupy lately. "Just … thinking."

"Ah. Anything I can help with?"

_Oh, you have NO__ idea_, Padmé wanted to tell him, but managed to squelch that impulse before she embarrassed herself. A change of subject was evidently in order and she took a sip of her caf, enjoying the subtle variations in flavor. "So … what do you have planned for tomorrow?" she asked. "If you're getting restless, maybe we could take a hike to the Lenganan Hills. It's quite a distance and should get rid of that pent-up energy of yours."

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "That's a good idea," he replied. "I _do_ need to stretch my legs. As beautiful and restful as it is here, it'll do me good to get out." He eyed her thoughtfully, assessing her silk gown and dainty slippers. "Have you got anything suitable for hiking, Madame Senator?"

What a brat he was. Padmé resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him, settling instead for a small moue of disapproval. "I have plenty of practical clothes, Master Kenobi," she replied. "I grew up on Naboo and spent much of my formative years rambling around the countryside. I can out-hike you any day."

"Oh, _really_?" Obi-Wan gave her a grin. "Is that a challenge, your Petiteness?"

Padmé couldn't resist this time, and the tip of her tongue came out. "It certainly is, your Knightness," she replied with a return grin. She'd always had a competitive streak and was a sore loser and a less-than-gracious winner. It was a part of her that she didn't like, but had learned to live with.

"Challenge accepted, milady," Obi-Wan said, finishing his caf in several inelegant gulps. He patted his lips with a napkin and then got up, offering her his arm in a courtly gesture. "May I escort you to the living area, Madame Senator?" he said. "I think you should have a restful evening in preparation for your crushing defeat tomorrow."

"Hah," Padmé replied, getting up and slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. "Talk … all talk. You'll be singing a different tune tomorrow, old man."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Well, now I know you're scared – when you resort to cheap shots like that."

"Scared? Of being beaten by an old man?" Padmé wiggled her eyebrows mischievously as they made their way into the beautifully appointed living area and sat down.

"Do your parents know what a brat you are?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"Yes; and they love and adore me anyway," Padmé nodded.

"You've got them blinded and wrapped around your little finger – that's what it is," Obi-Wan informed her sagely.

Padmé giggled appreciatively – he really _did_ have a mean streak. One that wasn't apparent to many people, but she liked the fact that she could bring it out in him so readily. To so many people, he seemed a stereotypical stoic Jedi – she knew better. He was serious, hard-working and kind and didn't have many close friends, but he seemed to feel free to express himself with her. As someone who had to wear a mask very often in her political life, she appreciated her own sense of freedom around this man. With him she could be as goofy as she wanted, and he didn't think any less of her. It was just one of the many things she loved … liked … about him.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER ****6**

**The next day:**

A long dim catwalk.

Grunts of exertion.

Two lightsabers – one with a double edge, wielded by a tattooed and behorned being with only darkness in his heart.

A soft cry of surprise, followed by a louder cry of pain. Obi-Wan, trapped by a forcefield, can only watch in horror as his Master – the man he loves like a father – is run through by the dark being.

The forcefield drops and he advances immediately on the Sith, disposing of him swiftly before going to his dying Master's side.

Someone shaking him hard, calling his name. "Obi – wake up! You're dreaming. _Wake up_, for kriff's sake!"

Obi-Wan awoke quietly, undramatically, the only evidence of his distress being his pale skin and the tear making its way down his cheek. He sat up and looked at Padmé, who was dressed in a white nightgown, her beautiful hair loose and curling around her shoulders and down her back. "Was I yelling?" he inquired quietly.

"No," Padmé replied quickly. "But you've been muttering for a while. I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes now."

"Oh." Obi-Wan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sighed. "Well, thank you," he said. "I wouldn't have been very popular if I'd woken everyone up in the dead of night."

Padmé frowned. "Everyone has bad dreams, Obi," she said, "and you have enough bad memories to fill a lifetime." She sat down on the side of the bed and brushed away the tear before taking his hand. "Was it Qui-Gon?"

It never even occurred to Obi-Wan to dissemble – it simply wasn't in him to lie to the woman he loved. "Yes," he replied. "The dream hasn't bothered me for a long time, but it's plagued me twice in less than a week."

Padmé sighed. "The Council should have assigned someone else to this mission," she said. "You're just as human as the rest of us – Qui-Gon of all people should have known better."

"To be fair, Padmé, Qui-Gon _did_ express his doubts that I would be able to handle coming back here, but I convinced him that I would be all right," Obi-Wan said. His hand came up to scrub at his non-existent beard and he dropped it with a grunt. "And I _will_ be all right," he added firmly. "I need to face my demons, otherwise they could cripple me. If Qui-Gon could do it then I certainly can."

"Well, I'm here for you, Obi," Padmé said softly. "Even if it's just for someone to listen to you."

Obi-Wan managed a genuine smile for the beautiful woman. "Thank you, Padmé – you're a good friend," he told her, turning his head and squeezing her smaller one gently.

Padmé returned the squeeze. "And so are you," she replied. "You think you can sleep now, or do you want to get an early start on the hike?" She gave a mischievous grin. "_Or_ … you could just concede defeat now and save yourself the humiliation."

Obi-Wan recognized that she was trying to lighten the mood and was grateful. She might not be Force sensitive, but she was extraordinarily attuned to the moods and feelings of those around her. "Concede defeat? To a politician? Don't make me laugh," he retorted, getting out of bed and pulling off his sleep shirt in preparation for a quick shower.

When a gasp came from Padmé, he realized that he now stood in front of her wearing only a pair of very brief, very tight, shorts. And he went bright pink. "Oh! I …," he stammered, yanking the sleep shirt upward to hide his torso.

"Well, I'll go and get changed," Padmé said hastily. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast in a half an hour."

"Uhh … yes," Obi-Wan agreed, clutching his sleep shirt to his bare chest and willing her to go away for perhaps the first time ever in their friendship.

Padmé's eyes made their way down his form then she blushed again and turned away. "Right … well … see you downstairs," she gabbled and hurried away.

Once Obi-Wan was certain that he was alone, he dropped the shirt and shed his shorts before heading to the fresher for a very short – very cold – shower.

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Padmé practically fled Obi-Wan's room, her mind insistently replaying the image of his slender yet toned body, the strong legs, broad shoulders and crisp reddish-brown hair on his well-formed chest. He was stronger-built than he appeared, and she realized now that Qui-Gon Jinn's far greater mass had made Obi-Wan look small in comparison.

And that was the lie. Obi-Wan was quick and strong – likely deadly if he put his mind to it – and immensely attractive. Padmé could only wonder that it had taken her two years to see in Obi-Wan half-nude what other had seen him fully-clothed. She'd always thought him handsome but had never realized until recently the raw masculinity that oozed from his pores.

She rushed back into her bedroom and shed her clothes before stepping into the fresher. On ocean and lake-rich Naboo water was plentiful and she stood there for easily ten minutes as the water poured down on her. Then she grabbed her cleanser and worked it into her body as if trying to scrub out the lustful thoughts that now plagued her.

She had to get control of herself and soon. Otherwise she was likely to march into Obi-Wan's fresher and acquaint her hands and lips with every bit of his strong toned body.

_And this would be such a bad thing?_, that evil voice inside her head whispered.

One the one hand; no. Maybe bedding Obi-Wan would satisfy her curiosity and help her to move on. But Padmé didn't have it in her to use people, and certainly not someone for whom she cared so much. She would have to rely on her own willpower – as weak as it was becoming – and Obi-Wan's chivalrous nature to protect them both from her baser instincts.

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**An hour later:**

Obi-Wan settled his sack more firmly onto his back as he followed Padmé out of the house. The sun was just rising over the horizon and he took a moment to appreciate how the colors of the sun set off the golden lights in Padmé's brown curls before catching up with the younger woman.

"Falling behind already, Obi-Wan?" she teased. "Tut-tut; what _would_ the Jedi Council have to say about that?"

"You really _are_ a brat, aren't you?" Obi-Wan replied mildly.

Padmé wrinkled her nose at him then grinned. "Since the day I was born," she said cheerfully. She slipped her hand through his arm as they made their way slowly down the path. She waved her free hand around, indicating the glorious vista before them. "I'm glad you were able to see this," she added. "This is what I see when I think about home."

"It _is_ beautiful," Obi-Wan agreed, breathing in deeply of the fresh morning air and enjoying the bite of the wind. Having been born and raised on climate-controlled Coruscant, he always appreciated the varieties of weather that other planets offered – from the icy cold of Hoth to the scorching heat of Tatooine.

By mutual agreement they lapsed into silence as they made their way past the lake where they'd played yesterday and headed for the distant hills. Obi-Wan eyed the hills and estimated that they had several hours' walk at their current pace. But he was in no hurry – a long steady hike would do him far more good than the brief runs with which he'd been contenting himself since their arrival on Naboo.

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Padmé strolled along easily beside Obi-Wan – despite her short stature, she rarely had problems keeping up with people – enjoying the beautiful surroundings and the comfortable silence between them. Although she enjoyed chatting and gossip, she also appreciated silence. Obi-Wan was not a great talker – but when he said something, it usually had a great impact, whether it be comfort or biting sarcasm. Thankfully he knew how to pick his moments and his targets, so had never hurt anyone's feelings.

As for Padmé … maybe she was strange or something, but she enjoyed his sarcastic humor and was frequently able to parry his witticisms. That dry wit helped deflect the stoic demeanor he so often sported, and nearly always made her laugh.

She was jolted out of her reverie when Obi-Wan gave a quiet laugh. "What is it?" she asked.

He indicated a herd of _shaak_, grazing placidly a hundred feet or so away. "Oh, when I was a Padawan – maybe 15 or so – some of my friends dared me to ride one of those."

"Oh, _tell_ me you didn't," Padmé said. Whilst the _shaak_ were placid, they resisted all attempts at domestication and would certainly never stand for being ridden.

Obi-Wan grinned and rubbed a hand to the back of his head. "I did," he said. "I lasted all of about three seconds before it threw me off. I still have the scar from where I hit a rock."

"I have no sympathy," Padmé said loftily, choosing not to share the fact that she'd occasionally been tempted to try riding one of the creatures herself. "Maybe it's a male thing."

"A _stupid male_ thing," Obi-Wan said. "And at times I don't think there's anything stupider than an adolescent male."

Padmé snorted inelegantly, recalling some of the insane acts in which her boyfriends had indulged in their younger days. "I can believe that," she replied.

Obi-Wan gave her an injured look. "Nice," he said dryly.

Padmé beamed at him. "Nice is my middle name," she agreed just as dryly.

Before he could let loose with a blistering retort, she pulled out her holo and took a still of the sun rising over the hills, capturing Obi-Wan in the process, much to his dismay. He'd always hated having his picture taken and that dislike had been cemented by the avid attention paid to him by the Republic Press Corps. "Oh, Padmé – _must_ you?" he complained – a less charitable person might have used the word 'whined'.

"Sorry; couldn't resist," Padmé said completely unapologetically. "We've been friends for two years, and I don't have a single picture of you."

"You're not missing much," Obi-Wan grumbled, his cheeks pink. "I've never wanted to be a media darling."

"Well, what you want and what you get aren't always the same," Padmé shot back.

"True enough," Obi-Wan agreed. His hand whipped out suddenly and took Padmé's holo from her just as she was about to take another still of him.

"Hey!" she protested, smacking at the grabby hand.

"_One_ still of me – that's more than enough," Obi-Wan said seriously. "Please respect my feelings on this, Padmé."

What could she do when confronted by that earnest expression? She couldn't claim to understand why he was so adamantly against having his picture taken, but he _was_ her friend. So what could she do but agree? "All right," she acquiesced and took her holo back from him. She took another still of the far-off Lenganan Falls, making sure she didn't capture Obi-Wan this time, and then tucked the holo back into the pouch around her neck.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said then took her hand. "I know you think I'm strange …"

"Very," Padmé interrupted.

Obi-Wan skated over the teasing insult. "… but I've just never liked drawing attention to myself."

"And that's why he became a Jedi Knight," Padmé said to the air, rolling her eyes. Not even the most naïve being could think a Jedi Knight could escape some kind of publicity. And when it came to one as physically attractive and personally charismatic as Obi-Wan Kenobi, the public was bound to follow his doings.

"I couldn't be anything else," Obi-Wan replied seriously. "I could have chosen to work in the Archives, as a Healer or in Agri-Corps, but after Melida/Daan I knew where I was meant to be."

"Melida/Daan? That sounds like a story," Padmé said interestedly, unaware that her hand was still linked with his.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Yes," he agreed. "And not a happy one either. I _will_ tell you about it one day – just not today."

"All right," Padmé acquiesced, not liking the shadows that had leaped into his eyes.

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Obi-Wan smiled down at the beautiful woman next to him, who seemed completely unaware that her small hand was still tucked inside his larger rougher one. He didn't even recall when he'd taken her hand, but it felt entirely natural, entirely right to him.

He had always had trouble dealing with and expressing his emotions – especially the stronger ones such as love and anger – yet he was so deeply in love with Padmé that it never even occurred to him to fight it. He looked around at the beautiful scenery, almost wishing that he had a holo himself – the woman beside him looked so perfect in her simple sturdy clothes, face and hair free of artifice. She _belonged_ to Naboo in a way she never had quite belonged to Coruscant.

He realized that Padmé was looking at him quizzically and decided to stop over-thinking things. Whilst being cautious and thoughtful could be a good thing, over-thinking a situation could prevent one from acting at the right time. With the opposite being equally true, of course.

He and Qui-Gon were perfect examples of planning versus impulse, although Qui-Gon's great sorrow had tempered a large amount of his impulsive nature. The man still had his moments though, Obi-Wan reflected fondly, wondering how the older Jedi was proceeding with his investigation.

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Geonosis had to be one of the wettest most miserable planets ever, Master Qui-Gon Jinn reflected now. He shook his long wet hair out of his face as he ran for his fighter in pursuit of Jango Fett and his young clone/son, Boba. "Artoo – begin ignition sequence!" he commanded of the little R2 droid that sat in its socket, booping and beeping interrogatively.

The R2 gave a querulous-sounding beep – those little droids had some disturbingly sentient mannerisms – and began the ignition sequence as Qui-Gon squashed his frame into the small fighter. Not for the first time, he wished he were a little smaller. No matter what the holo-movies would have one believe, bigger people generally did not become fighter pilots. A fighter's cockpit was definitely a cramped space, and Qui-Gon was definitely bigger than the average human.

Nevertheless he managed to get into the cockpit and completed the ignition sequence, blasting off after Fett's ship – rather disturbingly named _Slave 1_. The slaver ship juked wildly as it got caught in the atmospheric eddies of this wild wet planet before settling down. The bounty hunter was an excellent pilot, Qui-Gon noted; cool-headed and tricky. But, without being at all cocky about it, Qui-Gon knew that he was better. He closed his eyes and meditated briefly then took off in the opposite direction.

There was little point in chasing after Fett – he was a hired gun, a thug. Qui-Gon wanted someone higher up in the food chain. He tapped in a new flight plan – Serenno – and received another querulous-sounding beep from Artoo. "No; I'm not going to Coruscant," Qui-Gon said, reading the translation on the com screen. "Someone I know is on Serenno – the leader of the Separatists." Tyln Dooku had been a good friend and mentor to a young Qui-Gon, and he still had a great deal of respect for the older man despite their differing politics. He didn't believe for an instant that Dooku had had anything to do with the attempts on Senator Amidala's life – but someone in his organization didn't have the same sense of honor.

Another beeping inquiry – this one sounding more worried. "Yes; it might well be a trap, but I'm prepared for that," he told the worried droid. "As the cliché goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Artoo delivered a short raspberry sound as vocalization of its opinion and Qui-Gon chuckled. He'd never had much of an affinity for mechanicals, but this little droid was quite endearing in a way. "You are, of course, entitled to your opinion," he replied smoothly as they headed into the depths of space. "Feel free to speak up at any time."

Even the most sophisticated of droids didn't really understand sarcasm and Artoo was quiet for several seconds before delivering another set of beeps and tweeps.

Qui-Gon smiled when he saw the translation; /Pardon me, but isn't that what I just did?/

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Obi-Wan and Padmé had been walking steadily for several hours now in a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by Padmé drawing his attention to a particularly striking piece of scenery. She'd been right – Naboo was incredibly beautiful and he was glad that he'd come here. He would have preferred that her life _not_ be threatened for them to end up here, of course.

Padmé pulled a water bottle out of the sack on her shoulders and took a small sip before handing the bottle to Obi-Wan. "Thank you," he replied, "but I'm not thirsty."

Padmé took the bottle back and capped it before returning it to her sack. Then she took his hand as the incline suddenly increased steeply. "Come on, you poor old dear – I'll help you over the rough spots."

She really was a brat. Obi-Wan found a new sympathy for her sister as Padmé twinkled teasingly at him. He let go of her hand then gave in to the mischievous impulse tugging at him. He put his hands on the petite woman's waist and lifted her over a downed tree trunk to the accompaniment of a girlish squeal. "There you go, you poor _tiny_ dear – I'll help you over the high spots."

Padmé's eyes narrowed before she giggled in delight. Obi-Wan returned the laugh and she shook her head. "All those Padawans that think you're so stoic and nice – they don't know you at all! They have no idea of your sarcastic, evil sense of humor."

"I've hidden my true self well," Obi-Wan deadpanned. He realized suddenly that he still had his hands on Padmé's slender waist and went red, yet couldn't bring himself to let go. She really was lovely to hold.

It was only when Padmé coughed and shifted uncomfortably that he realized that his fingers were now stroking her flat stomach. He let go of her like he'd been burned and blushed. "Sorry," he murmured.

Padmé sighed. "It's all right," she said. "Anyway! The top of this hill should take another couple of hours or so to reach – you think you can manage that?"

The twinkle had returned to her eyes and Obi-Wan appreciated her lightening the moment. "Absolutely, milady."

Padmé passed Obi-Wan a fruit pie as they began walking once more. "You have to be hungry by now – it's been a full hour since you last ate."

"Oh, you're really in fine form today, aren't you?" Obi-Wan shot back, biting into the pie nevertheless and enjoying the tart _muja_ fruit's contrast with the sugar dusting the pastry.

Padmé just smiled … smirked would probably have been a more accurate description.

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The man lowered his holo, congratulating himself on his good fortune. He could see the headline now: **Senator Amidala's Secret Tryst With Jedi Master**. He could finally get the prestige he deserved – he would finally _be_ someone.

He watched through his long-distance view-finder as the couple bantered playfully, large smiles on both their faces. A handsome Jedi Knight and a beautiful young Senator – it was the stuff his competitors could only dream of.

His dream wasn't to last. Three minutes later, he was dying – blood pooling from his ears and eyes as his erstwhile lover relaxed back into his Clawdite form.

Ki Wessell – brother to Zam – raised the hood that disguised his features and stared with distaste down at the human. "You've served your purpose," he told his former lover coldly. The human could only gape uncomprehendingly as his life force bled away, but Ki didn't care. The man had outlived his usefulness and Ki was now nearer to his target. He would watch and wait – his employer had instructed no more foul-ups and he did _not_ want to meet the ugly end that had been his sister's fate.

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Obi-Wan shivered slightly as he felt darkness creep in. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He'd felt what seemed like a voice crying out in horror before being extinguished – the Force presence remained, carrying the ugly taint of murder. The Fore presence wasn't strong, but it was enough for Obi-Wan to look around uneasily. Had someone followed them to Naboo?

He slid his hand casually down to where his lightsaber was slung in its holder and focused his senses on that now-dissipating Force signature. There. Maybe about a mile away, someone was dying. Had been murdered. Obi-Wan sighed – he was too far away to be able to save the man; could only offer a brief moment of comfort.

_What happened?_, he sent, using their mutual Force strengths to establish a connection.

_Jedi … Kriff … you're Kenobi._

_Yes; I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. I don't care why you were here; I want to know why you were killed_, Obi-Wan returned.

_Don't know. Thought … he loved … me. Then … said I'd … served purpose._ The man was now struggling and Obi-Wan could feel his labored breaths. _It was … simple job. Get holo … of you and … the Senator._

Obi-Wan felt a burst of anger toward the man. His greed had led to Padmé being discovered and to his own death. He released that anger into the Force and sent as much comfort to the dying man as he could.

_Wait_, the man said. _He … my lover. Not … human. Saw … face change._

Another Clawdite, Obi-Wan realized with a sinking heart. Clawdites did not care for any race but their own, and were notoriously clannish. This new one had to be related in some way to the one that had been killed by the saber dart back on Coruscant. Clawdite families lived, played and worked together – what affected one affected them all. And doubtless he would be looking for revenge.

"Obi!" he heard Padmé calling as he emerged from his communication. "What's the matter?" The lovely woman stared at him anxiously.

He had never been one to hide something from someone 'for their own good'. "I think we've been discovered," he said. "We're going to have to leave. And soon."

Padmé bit her lip, going white, and then nodded her head bravely. "We can't risk taking a direct route back to Coruscant," she replied. "We're going to have to change ships often and go far out of our way."

Obi-Wan clasped her hand. "I _will_ keep you safe; I promise," he said. "It simply means that you're stuck with me for longer than we thought."

Padmé managed a wan smile. "That's the one bright spot in this whole mess," she said, shifting upward and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER ****7**

**That night:**

Padmé lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to get to sleep despite the thoughts whirling around in her head. The last few days with Obi-Wan had been so enjoyable that she'd almost forgotten just _why_ they were on Naboo in the first place. The murder of that reporter – Padmé had recognized him from one of the seedier tabloids – had shaken her.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her unpleasant thoughts and she sat up, switching on the luminater. "Come in," she called, wondering if it was Mali with some warm _kevas_. The sweet old lady had often brought her the _kevas_ during her days as Queen when she couldn't sleep.

The door opened and a tousled head appeared first, followed by the slim muscular body of Obi-Wan, dressed in a comfortable-looking sleep shirt and loose pants. "You need to sleep," he scolded gently. "We have an early start in the morning."

Padmé shrugged as she tried not to stare at what she now knew to be a wonderful body hidden under the loose shirt. "Easier said than done," she replied, feeling the hard knot of tension in her stomach unfurl. He was just so … comforting.

"I can help, if you'll let me," Obi-Wan said.

He closed his eyes briefly and Padmé felt her own eyes become distinctly heavy. "Don't," she said abruptly, dragging her eyes open and staring meaningfully at Obi-Wan. "No Force suggestions. Just …" She went pink. "Stay with me tonight," she added. "I can't be alone and you're very comforting." She knew that any other male would have seen that as an invitation for sex – especially considering the strong attraction and flirtation between them, _and_ the recent caresses. But Obi-Wan was the consummate gentleman – she knew that he wouldn't act without a very specific invitation.

Obi-Wan gave her a long considering look then, when Padmé lifted up the bed cover, got in and sat down next to where she lay. "Turn over; onto your side, back to me," he instructed, squeezing the tight muscles of her shoulders. "You're in knots – you can't possibly go to sleep like that."

Padmé turned over obediently then started when she felt his thumbs press into the hard knots that comprised the base of her neck. "Ow!" she yelped, her hands clenching into fists.

"Try not to tense up," Obi-Wan instructed, his thumbs pressing and rubbing firmly into her neck. "Take a deep breath, hold it for five seconds then release it as slowly as you can. Just keep doing that."

Padmé frowned skeptically but forced her hands to unclench as Obi-Wan's thumbs continued to torture the poor abused muscles of her neck. Suddenly he pressed sharply at the sides, she felt a distinct popping sensation and saw stars. "Oh … my," she murmured. Her neck hadn't felt so good in years. "All right … now my shoulders and back," she ordered, flipping over onto her stomach.

There was a pause and Padmé craned her neck to look at him. He looked uncertain and she sighed. "I don't think you'll try to ravage me, if that's what you're worried about," she told him. "I trust you completely – you should know that by now."

She loosened the top buttons of her nightgown and pulled at the neckline so that her shoulders and upper back were exposed. Then she lay back down, waiting for those firm warm hands to work their magic once more.

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Obi-Wan eyed the smooth pale expanse of skin presented to him and sighed softly. She was so lovely, so tempting …

Putting those thoughts firmly out of his mind, he ran his hands gently down her back, wincing when he felt the stiffness along her entire back. She really was in knots – had probably been tense for so long that she didn't even realize it.

He linked his fingers together and cracked the knuckles, causing Padmé to turn her head and frown at him. "Sorry," he said. Qui-Gon also hated it when he cracked his knuckles. Then he began to rub at her shoulders, marveling at the contrast between the soft skin and the tight muscles.

After several minutes he could feel her relaxing into the massage. "Great hands, Obi," she mumbled into the pillow. "If the Jedi thing doesn't work out for you, you could always become a massage therapist."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan retorted dryly, not letting up on the firm pressure in spite of her winces of pain whenever he hit a particularly sore spot. "I'm not a Healer, Padmé, but I think you need to start seeing someone regularly for this. You're so tense – this is long term."

Padmé sighed. "I don't have the time to lie on some couch every week doing nothing," she said.

"You should _make_ the time," Obi-Wan scolded. "Surely it's better to spend an hour a week doing nothing as you put it than being in agony."

Padmé turned to stare at him, not seeming to realize that the action tugged her nightgown downward, exposing the tops of her breasts. "I tried to hide it," she said. "I'm the youngest Senator in the written history of the Republic – I can't be seen to have any weaknesses."

"And you hid it well," Obi-Wan said. "I'm your best friend and I didn't realize how much pain you were in until just now. But it's not a sign of weakness to seek help. We _all_ need help, no matter how independent we'd like to be."

He waved his hand in a vague turning motion, trying not to stare at her chest, but unable to stop noticing the small, firm breasts that suited her delicate frame perfectly. When had he reverted to adolescence?

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Padmé turned back onto her stomach, feeling a pleasant tingle at the way Obi-Wan's eyes had fixed on her breasts. She was not a vain person and knew that she was meant to be small, but sometimes she'd wished her curves were a bit fuller. But she'd been able to see the hot desire on Obi-Wan's face – no matter how impassive he'd tried to appear – and the woman in her was pleased at that.

His hands gathered up her hair and placed it over a shoulder then began to rub and press once more, seeking out the sorest points on her back. She flinched when he reached the middle of her back – it felt like she'd been battered. Then she forced herself to relax, falling into the deep breathing method he'd given her.

As she relaxed further into the massage, she realized that he was muttering something under his breath. The words weren't in any language she recognized, but they sounded pretty and soothing nevertheless. Obi-Wan might _not_ be a Healer, but he certainly knew his way around the human body. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed – in both body and mind.

He patted her shoulder gently. "There; you should feel better for a while. Try to get some sleep – we have an early start in the morning."

Padmé groaned as she turned over to face him, wishing he hadn't stopped. She grabbed one of his hands. "Thank you," she murmured with a squeeze of his hand. Then she held on when he attempted to get up. "And just where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"Not far," Obi-Wan told her. He indicated the floor next to the bed. "I … ah …"

Padmé smiled at his chivalry. Obi-Wan was the only young man of her acquaintance who acted with such old-world gallantry. It was … nice. "Don't be silly," she told him. "You'll be cold and uncomfortable." She patted the space next to her. "There's plenty of room for both of us."

Obi-Wan eyed her thoughtfully then, perhaps realizing she meant what she said, lay back down at a respectable distance from her. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Padmé," he said equally softly.

"Good night, Obi," she replied then turned over and closed her eyes, trying once more to sleep.

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Padmé awoke feeling … tingly after a series of very strange dreams. Her head didn't seem half as heavy as usual, and she actually felt well-rested. "Magic hands, Obi," she murmured to the man still lying in bed with her, sleeping sweetly.

Somehow they'd ended up shifting positions during the night and she now lay with her back to him, tucked in against him, with his warm arm around her waist. She realized that it was the interesting combination of soft lips and scratchy whiskers on her neck that gave the tingling feeling. A tiny part of her protested that she shouldn't enjoy this but the majority of her was far too absorbed in the contrasting sensations of rough and smooth.

Then those lips began to move, placing what felt like light kisses to her neck, and now she knew she had to stop him before he realized what he was doing – he would be mortified. She disengaged herself gently from his embrace, her body protesting the loss, and then made her way to the fresher. Gods know; it was likely to be the last water shower she would have in a long time, and she planned to make the most of it.

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**Later that morning:**

Padmé flung her arms around Mali and then Rélan in a fierce hug for each of the wonderful people. "I'll miss you, but when this is all over, I'll come back for a proper visit."

"You'd better, young lady," Mali threatened, returning the hug. She sniffled then pushed slightly at Padmé, forcing her out of the hug. "All right; you'd better get going, but I've baked you something for your trip. Gods know you won't get anything decent on the transport."

Padmé smiled slightly at that and took the huge basket from the grandmotherly woman. "Thank you," she said, raising her eyebrows when Rélan took a solemn-looking Obi-Wan to one side and began a very serious conversation with him. "I wonder what that's about," she mused out loud.

"About you, you silly girl," Mali scolded lovingly. "Rélan and I love you and we want you to stay safe."

"And you think Obi-Wan needs reminding of his duty," Padmé said skeptically. Rélan should certainly understand the deep devotion to duty that characterized a Jedi.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not _all _they're talking about," Mali said. She smiled and patted Padmé's shoulder then sighed when Padmé simply stared at her. "You're a clever girl … except where men are concerned," she added. "That young man is in love with you – Rélan is having a grandfatherly talk with him."

Padmé could only gape at the old woman. She'd known that Obi-Wan had strong romantic feelings for her, but … he was _in love _with her? She'd tried her best to not encourage his advances but knew that last night had probably helped cement his feelings toward her.

Mali laughed. "Sightless creatures in other star systems could see that," she added. "Take the chance – you deserve to be happy, Miss Padmé, and he's such a good match for you."

Now that was what Padmé couldn't see. A politician and a Jedi … the two parties had such very different viewpoints. And if the Chancellor's latest motion were ratified, the Jedi would end up under the direct control of the Senate. That was another motion Padmé couldn't support but it had a lot of support amongst Palpatine's favored Senators, who seemed to mistrust the independent nature of the Jedi.

The Jedi Order was responsible to the Republic, and had to account for their actions to the Senate, just as the various trades guilds did. But this new motion would place their day-to-day operations under the Senate's direct control and, by extension, the Chancellor's.

Padmé bit her lip, not liking where her thoughts were taking her. She knew that some of Palpatine's inner circle didn't trust her, perhaps because of her close friendship with Obi-Wan. She'd never been disloyal – she loved the Republic for which she'd worked so hard and sacrificed so much … but was it still the same Republic? Would the Republic she'd chosen to serve ever create an interplanetary army? In a way she could understand the logic – after all, there was a Republic Navy. Maybe it wasn't an army in the abstract that she protested, but what she worried Palpatine would use that army for.

Obi-Wan made his way back over to Padmé, much to her relief. She was inclined to be introspective, but sometimes she could take it too far, and her current thoughts were rapidly approaching a seditious nature. "Are you ready, Padmé?" he asked.

"No; not really," Padmé said then sighed. Naboo was no longer safe for her – she recognized that it was time to leave. But she hated feeling choiceless. "But, yes; let's go," she added shortly, almost imperiously.

Obi-Wan frowned slightly but picked up her bags and stowed them in the beaten-up old landspeeder he'd acquired by means Padmé didn't want to examine too closely then he presented his hand to Mali then Rélan. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said.

"Any time." Mali surprised Padmé by enfolding Obi-Wan in a hug. He appeared equally startled, stiffening briefly before patting the old woman's back. "Look after yourself, Jedi – I'd like you to come back too."

Obi-Wan eyed the old woman with an expression Padmé couldn't begin to identify. Then he smiled, that open smile that took years from him, and gave Mali a gentle hug in return. Obi-Wan had always been reserved and had grown up not knowing the love of a mother – no wonder he'd been startled by Mali's affectionate embrace.

"Oh … oh my," Mali said, evidently startled at the Kenobi smile that had women all over the known worlds throwing themselves at him. "Good thing I'm old, Master Kenobi, or you'd be in trouble," she added, squeezing his biceps before letting go. "And married," she added with a saucy wink at her husband, who grinned back.

Obi-Wan blushed to the roots of his hair then turned and threw his own baggage into the speeder. The speeder listed slightly to one side before reorienting itself – where in the galaxy _had_ Obi-Wan found such an ancient machine? It looked like something she'd once seen in a museum, from before the days of regular spaceflight, and she had her doubts about its worthiness. And Obi wasn't exactly mechanically inclined; she was becoming worried that someone had ripped him off.

With some trepidation, she got into the ancient speeder, surprised when the engine started smoothly without the protesting whine or rattle that she would have expected from such a dilapidated-looking craft. _That'll teach you not to judge something by its appearance, Padmé_, she scolded herself as they sped away.

"Will you please fit your restraint?" Obi-Wan asked, the frown deepening.

"Just a minute," she replied shortly, already sick of his frowns and taciturn silence. She turned to wave at Mali and Rélan one more time before settling back into her seat and fitting the restraint.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured with a roll of his eyes.

"You're so very welcome," Padmé returned snidely. She might be a little younger than him and under his protected, but that didn't mean that she was a child. She couldn't comprehend why he was suddenly acting so snippy.

Several minutes passed in a tense angry silence then Padmé sighed heavily, turning to look at the man who steered the speeder swiftly and competently through parts of Naboo she'd never seen before. "All right; out with it," she said abruptly.

"Hmm? Out with what?" Obi-Wan replied absently.

"Why have you been acting like a _shaak_ trying to shake off a rider?" Padmé aimed her best stern-politician frown at him. "If I've done something to annoy you then tell me. Otherwise, stop acting this way."

Obi-Wan sighed and turned his head briefly to glance at her before returning his attention to the view ahead. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he said in his customary slightly bashful manner. "I'm a little angry, but with myself not with you. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"That's all right," Padmé said; part of her relieved to find that he could have bad moods sometimes. So far in the last couple of years she'd only seen the good parts of his personality – the snippiness he'd displayed made him refreshingly human. "But why are you angry with yourself?"

"I've been treating this time on Naboo as a vacation," he said. "I forgot my duty because I was too busy playing and enjoying myself. And now you've been forced to leave your home."

"Oh," Padmé said in a small voice. She'd hardly been any help in reminding him of what he saw as his duty, encouraging him in his rare silly playful moods. She realized now that if anything had happened to her, the guilt would crush Obi-Wan. Well, she vowed, no more. She would do her best to be a model protectee while they were thrown together thus but once things got back to normal, she was determined to see the playful Obi-Wan Kenobi once again.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan allowed himself one more glance at Padmé's lovely profile before turning his attention back to his flying. Although this speeder looked decrepit and long past its best, it purred like a Togorian cub in his hands. Built maybe a century ago, it was simpler and not half as flashy as its new counterparts. But by that same token there was far less that could go wrong with it.

The owner of the speeder shop had been surprised when Obi-Wan had pointed it out, trying to persuade him into one of the newer, far more expensive, models instead. But Obi-Wan had stood firm, not allowing the owner's blandishments to sway him, and he'd soon left the establishment with the speeder he wanted.

He could picture Padmé rolling her eyes at what she would undoubtedly see as 'Kenobi stubbornness'. But she could out-stubborn him any day of the week. Once she had made up her mind on something, it was a little like trying to move a Hutt.

The speeder gave a little whine and he eased back on the acceleration. These little speeders went faster than they needed to – far faster than _any_ tropospheric craft really needed to – and were therefore very attractive to the youth of varying species. But Obi-Wan was no longer a youth and, although he wished to leave Naboo quickly he also wished to make it off the planet alive.

He stole another glance at Padmé, who had her eyes closed as the wind whipped through her hair. He dug in the console and produced a pair of shaders, handing them to her with a nudge of her hand. "These should protect your eyes from the dust," he said.

Padmé smiled briefly at him and took the shaders, settling them onto her small nose. "Thank you," she said, staring out at the vista once more.

Obi-Wan looked at her and swallowed the urge to laugh. The shader lenses were huge and took up half her face, making her look like a surprised insect. He'd never seen her look so … cute before, but nobly resisted the urge to share that with her – he had the feeling that she wouldn't appreciate it.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé looked at Obi-Wan, a little suspicious of the small smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. She debated interrogating him but let it go, deciding to simply enjoy the return of his good mood. She pushed the shaders back up her nose as the sun made its way into the sky, wondering just where they were going. There were circuitous routes to the Naboo spaceport but this was by far the most convoluted one she'd ever seen.

As she pondered, Obi-Wan reached under the console and removed a tiny device and pulled to a halt. "Can you pilot one of these?" he asked.

"Yes," Padmé said, wondering what he was up to now. "It's been a while, but I remember."

They swapped seats and strapped themselves back in. Padmé eyed the controls, reacquainting herself with the workings of the speeder, and then accelerated smoothly away. The ancient speeder purred happily under her hands and she realized with some chagrin that Obi-Wan truly had known what he was doing when he picked this vessel – it was nowhere near as temperamental as the speeders she'd piloted in her younger days.

She turned to look at Obi-Wan and found him fiddling with the small device he'd removed from the console. "What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Tracking device," he mumbled around the tool in his mouth. "Just reprogramming it with some reversed coordinates."

"So whoever planted this can't follow us," Padmé deduced. "But Naboo only has one spaceport – it doesn't matter how we get there, they know where we're going."

"True." Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled in that way she always enjoyed. "But who says we're leaving via spaceport, Madame Senator?"

Padmé grinned back at him, knowing better than to press him for details. The Kenobi stubbornness would simply kick in and all she'd get for her trouble was frustration. She watched as he fiddled with the tiny device, impressed with his skills. "You're a man of many talents, Master Kenobi," she said.

He looked up and gave her a smile. "Why, thank you, Senator Amidala," he replied before bending his head to his task once more. "Just keep flying due north – I'll take over in a few minutes."

"You're not even telling me where we're headed?"

"It's hard to give you a name for something that doesn't exist," Obi-Wan replied briefly.

In other words; a smugglers' haunt, Padmé translated. Being a Jedi required making contacts within the seedy underworld and Obi-Wan had a surprising number of friends and contacts that plied that dangerous trade.

"All right," she acquiesced, knowing that she wouldn't get any more out of him regarding their destination.

He finished working on the tiny tracking device, fit it back under the console then waved slightly at Padmé. "All right; pull up," he said.

Padmé stopped reluctantly – she'd been enjoying the rarely-experienced sensation of piloting – and they swapped seats once more.

Obi-Wan veered sharply to the left and began heading east toward the Lenganan Falls, she realized now. Thinking about it, the Falls would make a perfect place for smugglers, with its labyrinth of caves and tunnels.

The journey toward the Falls passed in silence as Padmé wondered what Obi-Wan would be seeing such lowlifes about. They were more likely to help the would-be assassins than a Jedi – assassins generally being better-funded than the notoriously underpaid Jedi Order. But, she reminded herself, Obi-Wan was a grown man who knew what he was doing. He'd never deliberately lead her into danger without a specific purpose and a backup plan. And probably a backup plan for the backup plan, she mused fondly. He was nothing if not cautious and well-prepared.

About a half a mile from the first rock formations of the Falls, Obi-Wan pulled to a sudden halt. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way," he said. "Vehicles are forbidden around here under Naboo environmental law."

Padmé nodded her head. Centuries ago, Naboo had caused a lot of damage to its environment with mining, constructions and chemical plants. Even those as young as Mali and Rélan could remember choking smog, the high incidence of respiratory dysfunction and crumbling natural formations. It had taken nearly losing their world for the then-governing body to realize the importance of preservation.

They got out of the speeder and she picked up her bag. "But what about the speeder?" she inquired.

"It'll be gone within ten minutes," Obi-Wan replied. "But we have no further use for it and one of the poorer families here will be able to live for months from the money it'll bring them."

Padmé stared at him. "See; I'm thinking about thieves and you're thinking about the poor. But that's all right; that's why I'm a little bit fond of you," she teased.

She won a full-on Kenobi smile for that. "Brat," he replied, tugging at her hair. "Now, before we go in there, I should warn you. A single female is vulnerable around these people. It might be best if we pretend to be together."

"We _are_ together …," Padmé got out before realizing what he meant. "Oh," she added. "Well, I can do that," she informed him. She tucked her hand into his then stretched up and kissed him full on the lips. "Just for anyone that might be watching," she said with a smile, wondering just who she was trying to fool – the smugglers or herself.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER ****8**

**On Serenno:**

Qui-Gon walked slowly, carefully, away from his hiding place, having trouble believing everything he had just overheard. Not only was his old friend truly the leader of the Separatists – confirming the gossip that had been running rife through the political circles of Coruscant – but he had personally authorized the assassination of Senator Amidala.

The Dark Side fairly roiled around the former Jedi, causing Qui-Gon to shudder. How had Dooku gone so wrong so quickly? Or had it always been there and Qui-Gon had simply not been able to see it due to his loyalty to their old friendship?

With a sigh, Qui-Gon shook off this line of thought. He could ponder those changes when he was safely back on Coruscant. Now he had to make his way back to his fighter – he would have no chance of talking to Dooku, or Lord Tyranus as the Separatists seemed to refer to him. The man had gone beyond his reach.

He crept along the dark passageways, tucking himself carefully into narrow corners. For such a big man he was very good at moving stealthily, blending in. Two Gamorreans passed by the doorway in which he'd concealed himself and paused, sniffing. The Gamorreans weren't the most intelligent of races – some would argue that they'd barely achieved sentience – but their senses were highly attuned. Qui-Gon took a deep breath then sent out a Force suggestion that they merely smelled food preparations.

The diversion worked – a Force suggestion worked best on those whose minds were weak – and the two ugly beings snorted and turned back the way they'd come. Qui-Gon breathed a short sigh of relief and began moving once more, becoming one with the shadows.

He turned the corner and nearly fell over a little R2 droid, which greeted him with beeping and tweeting noises that sounded scolding. "Yes; I was a little longer than I expected," Qui-Gon said, part of him bemused at the fact that he was placating a chunk of metal and wires. Yet Artoo had been a surprisingly good companion on this mission, and Qui-Gon wondered anew whether these little droids were actually sentient. "Anyway," he added, turning the tables on his little mechanical friend, "I thought I instructed you to remain with the ship."

More beeping and tweeting ensued – this time sounding conciliatory rather than scolding – and Qui-Gon held back a smirk. It seemed that for lack of a former Padawan to tease, he had taken up teasing a poor droid that simply didn't understand it. He realized that he'd fallen into the common trap of anthropomorphizing these droids but the little astromech _was_ rather appealing.

Artoo made a cooing noise then began rolling smoothly forward out of the building, its squat cylindrical body standing up against the driving winds far better than Qui-Gon's tall rangy frame. He ducked his head against the wind and focused his senses inward, ensuring that no-one would take him by surprise.

They reached the fighter safely and Qui-Gon lowered the ramp for Artoo to climb aboard. The droid, with much tweeping and twittering, did so and then Qui-Gon squished himself back into the cockpit and laid in the hyperspace course for Coruscant. This intelligence was not safe to go through communications equipment – no matter how secure. It had to be delivered personally. But he had already loaded a heavily encrypted datafile into Artoo's systems just in case.

When he informed Artoo of that precaution, he received a raspberry sound in response. /If you expect the worst, it is sure to occur/, he was informed.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Such a pessimist, my little friend," he chided. "It never hurts to be cautious." He'd learned to be more cautious in a very painful way ten years earlier – the lesson still pained him to this day, and he suspected that it would always hurt.

Artoo grumbled something in machine code that the onboard com either couldn't or wouldn't translate. But some things needed no translation.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**On Naboo:**

Padmé watched as Obi-Wan – in the guise of a rough Corellian spacer named Kreoh – showed his sabacc hand with a smirk. An outraged howl rang through the cave as he scooped up his winnings. He hadn't won every single time – evidently choosing to use his own abilities rather than enhance them with the Force – and he'd lost often enough so far that the smugglers weren't suspicious of him.

In her guise as 'his woman' – she bristled at the proprietary expression – her role seemed to be to simply wiggle in his lap and top up his ale when he nodded. She'd said very little so far, not wishing to draw too much attention to herself. Whilst she wasn't immediately recognizable outside of political circles, this _was_ her homeworld, and these smugglers were not stupid. Smugglers did not survive long by being stupid, and she'd already received a number of speculative glances. Thankfully, they seemed to be related to the cleavage on display by the unbuttoned shirt rather than to her recognizable face.

Obi-Wan passed her a wad of dirty notes and she made a great show of rolling them up and stuffing them inside her undergarment to the accompaniment of more howls – this time of raucous male approval. She flashed one of her more ardent admirers a saucy wink and patted his thigh.

Much to Obi-Wan/Kreoh's disapproval. He gave a low growl and tightened his arm around her waist. "Leilana …," he said. "We've had this talk before, haven't we?"

"Yes, Kreoh," Padmé replied softly, trying to sound conciliatory.

"And what did I say?"

_He's only acting_, she reminded herself. _Don't rip his head off._ "That I'm yours."

Obi-Wan flashed her a wolfish grin then bit down gently on her earlobe, causing her to squeal at the mingled pain and pleasure. "And don't you forget that, woman."

"Yes, Kreoh," she breathed then turned her head and sank her teeth into his neck, sucking hard on the skin. He yelped and clapped his hand to his neck while Padmé fought off a giggle. _Let's see if you can take what you give out, Kenobi_, she thought gleefully.

"Evil wench," he growled, bobbing his eyebrows at her. "You'll pay for that later."

"Oh, I hope so," Padmé replied, resisting the urge to flutter her eyelashes at him – that was too coy for both Padmé Amidala and Leilana Nev.

Obi-Wan pinched her waist, causing her to start, and she wriggled sensuously in his lap, fighting off a blush when she realized that he was becoming aroused. Had he actually _liked_ that tacky lovebite? _You liked it too, Padmé_, her Sola inner voice remarked.

"We got a room out the back if'n you two wanna do the Wampa wiggle," one of the smugglers said, leering at Padmé. "Ain't no way we're lifting off today, so you may's well get … comfy."

Obi-Wan gulped down the last of his ale then lifted Padmé onto her feet. "Good idea," he said. "It's been too long." He got up also then threw Padmé over his shoulder, slapping her on the rump. "C'mon Leilana," he added.

Padmé jammed her elbows into Obi-Wan's back then remembered her role and filled her hands with his rear and squeezed. "Of course, my love," she breathed as sensuously as she could manage through the giggles that fought their way upward.

"Evil, _evil _woman," Obi-Wan murmured as he marched out of the smugglers' line of sight.

"Thank you," Padmé replied as demurely as she could considering that her rear end was hiked up over Obi-Wan's surprisingly strong shoulder. "You can put me down now, you know," she added.

She could almost _hear_ him smile. "No; I rather like it this way," he said.

And he called _her_ evil? But she was glad that his good humor had returned – she didn't want this unwanted sexual attraction to destroy the friendship that she treasured. Lovers would come and go, but a friend like Obi-Wan was something rare and special.

She dug her elbows into his back once more. "This is not dignified," she protested as he rounded another corner.

"No; I suppose it isn't," Obi-Wan replied airily, but no longer sounding inebriated.

He made no move to set her back on her feet. And Padmé resigned herself to being hauled around like a sack of grain until his evil mood passed or until he tired – whichever occurred first. And knowing full well that he had immense stamina, she simply had to wait for his evil imp to move on.

They entered a small room with plain but clean bedding and a surprisingly cozy-looking fireplace. Evidently these smugglers did well for themselves, Padmé mused, raising her eyebrows. "Are you ready to put me down yet, Kreoh?" she demanded. There could be listening devices anywhere in this room after all.

"But of course, my evil wench!" Obi-Wan tumbled her onto the bed with a laugh and she rolled out of the way as he threw himself down, flinging his arms outward. "Ahhh!" he sighed dramatically then smacked his lips. "Leilana; I'm kinda thirsty," he informed her.

"And you're telling me this because …?" Padmé replied archly.

Obi-Wan picked up a lamp and threw it against the wall, causing Padmé to cry out in shock. "Do not sass me, woman! Didn't I warn you about that smart mouth of yours?" His eyes conveyed his apology for speaking to her thus.

"I'm … I'm sorry, Kreoh," Padmé murmured.

"And now I'm going to have to pay for that lamp because you can't control that kriffing mouth! D'you think I'll put up with anything because you're beautiful? There are millions of beautiful women around – you're nothing special and it's high time you realized that."

"Yes, Kreoh," Padmé said, surprised at how well he could play such an unpleasant person. If she didn't know him so well, she'd be more than a little frightened of the fierce glare in his eyes and the scowl on his brow.

"Clean that up!" Obi-Wan ordered. "And that lamp is coming out of your allowance, Nev," he added with a disgusted sneer.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

_Force; it's a good thing Padmé knows me so well_, Obi-Wan mused, disgusted with the words coming out of his mouth. Unfortunately, they were entirely appropriate for the persona he currently effected – he'd worked with this group of pirates before and knew that they would be suspicious of a softer gentler Kreoh.

He watched as Padmé swept up the mess he'd made then flung several notes onto the table where the lamp had been. Padmé put the brush and pan away then approached the bed. "I'm sorry, Kreoh," she said softly. "I'll try harder."

"I know you will," Obi-Wan said sternly. "I don't like having to discipline you, but needs must, you know." He patted the bedding. "Now, let's put your silliness aside and do what we do best." He effected a lascivious look and rolled his eyes inwardly.

Padmé/Leilana smiled at him then got into the bed next to him. "Thank you, Kreoh," she said softly, putting her hand on his thigh.

Aware that they were probably being watched – these pirates trusted no-one – Obi-Wan pulled the covers over him and Padmé and tugged her up against him.

"Now what?" Padmé asked, stroking his cheek.

"How about a few suggestive moans?"

"It's a shame we don't have a headboard to bang," Padmé shot back with a giggle.

Obi-Wan swallowed the urge to guffaw and poked her in the ribs. "Shhh … _shh_!" he urged.

Padmé moistened her lips. "Sorry," she murmured quietly then slipped her hands into his hair and tugged his head down so that his lips hovered near hers.

Obi-Wan groaned slightly – she was entirely too tempting – and closed the minuscule distance between their lips, tasting the sweetness that was Padmé. She opened her lips responsively, her tongue meeting his, and he gave another groan as her tongue explored his teeth, his tongue, his upper palate.

"Obi …," she murmured, slipping her hands under his shirt and exploring his chest, tweaking his nipples.

"Mmm," he got out less than intelligently, sliding his own hands under her shirt and closing his fingers gently on the small firm mounds of her breasts.

His fingers had just reached her nipples, causing her to shudder, when the door opened with a bang. The leader of this particular group of pirates burst in and flung a roll of notes at Obi-Wan. "Trouble," he said briefly. "Get outta here while you can, Jedi."

Obi-Wan managed not to gape at the pirate, but Padmé had no such luck. "You _knew_?" she said, tugging her shirt back into place and scrambling out of the bed, following in short order by Obi-Wan.

"I always knew," the pirate replied. "He's helped me before – I'm helping him now." He threw another roll of notes at Padmé this time. "And you as well, Senator. I don't know how long we can hold out against Shrike – and he'd love to get his hands on a pretty little thing like you."

Obi-Wan presented his hand briefly to the pirate, whose name he'd never learned. "Thank you," he said quietly, putting the notes into his pack.

"There's a speeder hidden about two miles east of here," the pirate continued. "But if you get caught, I never met you, and I don't know nothin', you got that?"

"Got it," Obi-Wan replied. A roaring noise filled his ears, punctuated by loud rattles – that of projectile weaponry. Although most people now used blasters, some people still preferred the old-fashioned projectiles – for prestige, to inspire terror, to inflict greater pain. A blaster cauterized any wound it made, but a projectile would tear flesh, destroy blood vessels and then lodge in the body, preventing healing.

He climbed quickly out of the window then held his hands out for Padmé to do likewise. She gripped his hands and clambered out slightly less rapidly then she nodded her head to the pirate. "Thank you," she murmured.

Still gripping Obi-Wan's hand, she and he hurried away from the dark caves into the even darker night.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Despite the brisk pace Obi-Wan set, Padmé found that she could keep up easily and they made good time away from the Falls, which were now alight with weapons fire. She shuddered as she realized how close they had come – if that pirate hadn't been honorable, she would have been in the infamous Shrike's hands by now. The pirate was notorious, not only for his piracy but for his sexual appetites. Padmé was, at 24 Standard years, actually a little old and the wrong gender for Shrike's tastes – he preferred them male and barely into adolescence – but she knew that a Senator and former Queen would be too great a prize for him to resist.

"This way," Obi-Wan urged quietly – the first time he'd spoken since they'd left the caves. She followed him obediently into a small forest where they soon came upon another speeder that had seen better days. But she knew better than to judge this time, having seen Obi-Wan perform magic on the other speeder.

They clambered into the speeder and Obi-Wan shot off, pushing the little craft to its limits as it sped along through the night sky. After several minutes, he reached under the steering mechanism and removed a small black item – another tracking device, Padmé assumed – and threw it out of the speeder with a disgusted exclamation.

They pulled up in a surprisingly short time at a seedy-looking spaceport and Obi-Wan nodded politely, calmly, to the security officer. "Good morning," he said courteously then waved his hand over his face. "You don't need to see our tickets – you can trust us."

"We don't need to see their tickets," the man echoed obediently. "Get aboard quickly – the ship leaves for Mandalore in ten minutes."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, passing the security officer a wad of notes.

Padmé remained silent, shocked at how Obi-Wan had used the famed Force suggestion, and followed her friend onto the dilapidated looking freighter. She was also a little shocked at how quickly she'd lost herself to her passion once again – if they hadn't been interrupted, she would have given herself fully to him.

_And wouldn't THAT have been a special first time?_, she mocked herself. She'd never considered herself overly romantic, but she'd always imagined her first time would be with someone she loved in a warm clean bed. Not a moment of lust with her best friend in some cave. Yet there was a small part of her that regretted the interruption – the lustful woman that wanted to explore every bit of the sexy Jedi Master now ushering her into a small baggage area.

"It won't be very comfortable," he was saying now, "but security is minimal on these old freighters – and most of the security forces are in the pockets of the local smugglers. They'll look the other way for the right price."

"You know an awful lot about this kind of life," Padmé said curiously. Although his life was hardly sheltered, she'd never realized before just how well he was able to negotiate his way through the rougher parts of Galactic society.

Obi-Wan gave her a brief smile. "Dex is a very good friend, and still has contacts that owe him much," was all he said.

And that was an odd friendship too – the giant rough-mannered Besalisk and the much smaller cultured Coruscanti. Obi-Wan just seemed to have the gift for making friends – whether it be Nubian royalty or Corellian pirates. Padmé sat down on the floor and tucked her cloak around her as she allowed her mind to drift back ten years …

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**En route to Tatooine:**

In her guise as the Queen's handmaiden, Padmé gripped the cloth more tightly in her hand as she cleaned off the small R2 droid that had saved them earlier. Gods … she was terrified for her people, but she trusted Governor Bibble and Senator Palpatine implicitly – the Senator continued to plead the Naboo people's case at Senate, asking for more support than the Jedi could give.

For all their claims of not being soldiers, they were very good at it, Padmé thought now. She recalled the way the big Jedi and his younger smaller companion – an apprentice? – had flung themselves off the balcony and cut down the many droids herding Padmé and her retinue through the long corridors of the palace. The big man looked like a picture she'd once seen in a story book a few years ago – that of an ancient warrior king – with his long hair and noble features. The younger man – while smaller and slimmer – was no less handsome, but was not as intimidating simply by virtue of his lesser size.

Someone appeared silently beside her and handed her a clean cloth, causing her to jump.

"Thank you," she said to the young Jedi, feeling his calm strength surround her, comforting her. If this young man, an apprentice, was already so strong and serene, what did that say about the power of his Master?

"You're welcome," he said. "I just thought you'd like to know that we'll be landing on Tatooine in about two hours," he added.

Padmé nodded her head. "I just wish this detour wasn't necessary," she said. "My … Queen needs me." Kriff; she'd almost said 'my _people_'!

"The Queen is much stronger than you give her credit for," the Jedi said, looking closely at her now. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, by the way."

"Padmé Naberrie," Padmé said, clasping the Jedi's hand briefly and feeling herself blush. He really was handsome with his fair coloring and bright eyes. But she was only 14 and he had to be in his early 20s. Although 14 was a marriageable age on Naboo, it wasn't something she'd ever seriously considered. Kriff; she'd only had her first kiss three months ago – just before her 14th nameday.

"It's nice to meet you, Padmé Naberrie," Obi-Wan said, looking at her closely again.

_He knows_, Padmé realized, wondering when he'd learned the truth. And if he knew, then certainly his Master would know also. "Obi-Wan … that's an unusual name," she said, seeking refuge in banalities.

"It's old Coruscanti," Obi-Wan said. "It means noble strength."

_That fits_, Padmé thought as she continued rubbing at the little droid, which twittered and beeped a lengthy string of machine code at her. If anything characterized the Jedi, it was the term 'noble strength'. "Oh," she murmured, unsure what else to say. She felt herself quite grown up compared to other people her age, but this serious young man made her feel like … well, like a child.

It wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed, but knew that she would encounter it more and more in Core society. She was one of the youngest Queens in Naboo's history – most of the Core planets _would_ still regard her as a child. Usually, the heavy makeup and ornate head-dresses helped conceal her youthful features – this handmaiden outfit seemed to emphasize them.

She blushed slightly when she realized that she'd been staring at Obi-Wan's handsome face for several seconds and looked away, concentrating fiercely on her task. "I should … get on with this," she said awkwardly.

"Of course," Obi-Wan replied, bowing his head to her politely. "I'm just in the cockpit with Captain Panaka if you want to talk, though – I know that you're scared and worried."

And on top of being brave and handsome, he was so _nice_! Padmé smiled up at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome, milady." And with that, he was gone.

_Milady._ Oh yes; he knew.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER ****9**

Padmé brought herself back to the present with a start and looked out of the tiny viewport to see that they had now entered hyperspace, the stars mere blurs as the freighter zipped past. "So …where next?" she asked of Obi-Wan.

He opened his eyes. "Mandalore," he replied. "From there we'll change onto another freighter and head further out. We should be able to hide well on Mandalore."

Padmé nodded her head. Although Mandalore was nominally part of the Republic, it was notorious for hiding people that didn't want to be found – for a price of course. "When do you think we'll be able to go home?"

"I wish I could say," Obi-Wan replied gravely. "Until this latest danger to you has been eliminated, Coruscant isn't safe for you, as are few of the Core worlds." He eyed her thoughtfully. "We're going to have to find some way of disguising you – your face is too well known."

"And yours isn't?" Padmé asked. He had to be one of the most well-known Jedi in the galaxy.

"Mmm," Obi-Wan agreed. He dug in his sack and produced two boxes of hair dye – one dark and one blonde – along with colored lenses. "Have you ever thought about being a blue-eyed blonde?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

He passed her the hair dye and the blue lenses, keeping the dark dye and brown lenses for himself. "We should disguise ourselves before we reach Mandalore," he added.

Padmé looked at the hair dye and sighed. Bucking the current trends on Coruscant, she'd stuck to her natural color, not believing that she would suit being blonde. It seemed that she was about to find out for certain.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan sucked in a surprised breath when Padmé emerged from the fresher. He hadn't been certain that she would suit the fair coloring and knew that he would miss her soft brown eyes. Yet the blonde hair and newly blue eyes actually went rather well with her creamy skin, making her look fragile and ethereal.

Then she grinned impishly at him, giving the lie to her ethereal quality. "Now your turn," she ordered, holding the door open to the fresher.

He sighed deeply. "Yes, milady," he teased mournfully and disappeared into the fresher to begin his own transformation.

Forty minutes later, he had changed into the rugged hard-wearing clothes of a farmer – a similar outfit to that which Padmé now sported – and made his way back into the main baggage area. "We'll be arriving on Mandalore in around thirteen or fourteen hours," he said. "I have some contacts there that should be able to hide us for a few days until we can get another flight."

"More pirates?" Padmé asked impishly.

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "Just some family and friends." He grinned at her, forgoing his decision to keep his distance from her. It just wasn't possible when they were in such tight quarters, both literally and figuratively. "Not _all_ my friends are criminals, you know."

Padmé nudged him affectionately and handed him a nutrient bar and gourd of water. "You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are a complete brat," she said, "and Master Jinn deserves a medal for putting up with you for so long."

"A brat?" Obi-Wan was bemused by her choice of words. "I found my first gray hair this morning, and you're calling me a brat?"

"So you're old," Padmé replied cheekily, a dimpled grin brightening her face. "Doesn't mean you're not a brat."

"Oh, very nice," Obi-Wan said dryly. "I'll remember this conversation when you find _your_ first gray hair, Madame Senator."

"I'm sure you will," Padmé replied. "But isn't holding a grudge against the Jedi ethos?"

"Oh, I'm making an exception in the case of tiny little Senators that are too smart-mouthed for their own good," Obi-Wan deadpanned. Calling Padmé tiny never failed to get a rise out of her.

Padmé put her tongue out at him. "Mean," she said. "You are mean, sneaky and evil." Then she slipped her hand through his arm. "Don't ever change, Obi," she added seriously. "I like this side of you."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied. So many people didn't get his sarcastic sense of humor or responded merely with rolling eyes. He loved that this young woman understood him so readily.

And he loved her too, he mused, thinking of their most recent encounter. If they hadn't been interrupted by Shrike's attack on the base, he knew that she would have given herself to him – he wasn't so modest that he couldn't see that. And whilst he would have preferred it to be in a far more romantic setting, he would have accepted.

He was pleased to see that she wasn't pulling away from him this time – unlike after their previous kisses. Although he was deeply in love with her and regretted that she didn't feel the same way, he treasured their friendship. That was why he would never let her know how he felt.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé yawned, her eyes fluttering closed, as the ship made its way to Mandalore. She pulled some clothing out of her bag and rolled it up to form a pillow then lay down with a small wince for the hardness of the decking. It had been many years since she'd roughed it – she was getting soft.

Obi-Wan lay down next to her and flung his cloak over them both. "This is a freighter," he said. "Heating isn't exactly a priority and I don't want you getting too cold overnight."

Padmé smiled helplessly at him, touched by the old-world gallantry that so many young men of her acquaintance were missing nowadays. "Thank you," she murmured, cuddling into him with another yawn. The day's events had finally caught up with her, and she felt just about ready to drop from exhaustion.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "Try to get some rest, Padmé," he said gently.

"All right," Padmé replied, "but only if you sleep too. I know Jedi can go for long periods without sleep, but you may as well sleep while you can."

Obi-Wan pressed another kiss to her forehead and she could feel his lips curve against her skin. "You're going to keep on at me until I sleep, I suppose," he said in a resigned tone.

Padmé chuckled. "You know me too well, Obi," she replied. "I know you probably won't sleep, but at least shut your eyes. Meditate or something."

"Yes, milady," Obi-Wan teased.

Padmé chuckled again – he really was an incredible brat – then tilted her head up and brushed an affectionate kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Obi," she said.

"Good night, Padmé."

She dropped her head back onto her makeshift pillow and closed her eyes, waiting for the sounds of the ship's engines and Obi-Wan's breathing to transform into a sort of white noise. He really was sweet and so comforting, despite his moments of impishness, and he was very attractive. So why wasn't she in love with him? It would make so much sense to be one with him, yet she couldn't bring herself to profess an emotion she didn't feel. She did love him, of course – but as a dear friend, not a lover.

_Do you even really know what love is, Padmé?_, that annoying part of her mind – the one that sounded like Sola – asked. _You can't go by those absurd holofilms you used to watch as an adolescent._

Yet another part of her – the young woman whose childhood had been cut short by the demands of her world – simpered and longed for a tall, dark and handsome someone to sweep her off her feet with grand declarations from burning lips. And that part of Padmé was far stronger and more vociferous than the part that had truly fallen in love with the man with whom she currently lay.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Back on Coruscant:**

Qui-Gon hurried along the Temple walkways, intent on presenting his findings as soon as possible to the Masters on the Jedi Council. He was in such a hurry that he failed to look up as a door near him opened, and someone collided with him.

"Kriff; watch out!" the young woman said sharply.

"I'm sorry, Miss," Qui-Gon apologized courteously, picking up one of the boxes that had fallen from the woman's arms. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

"If I'm not, it's no thanks to you," the woman grumbled. "Try employing that obviously over-rated Force sense of yours, and look where you're going!" she snipped, dragging her hands through her long curling hair.

"It was an accident, for which I apologized," Qui-Gon pointed out sharply. "Rudeness won't get you anywhere."

The woman's eyes narrowed and she muttered something highly uncomplimentary in Huttese before grabbing her boxes and flouncing away.

Qui-Gon frowned after her – her words and tone had been aggressive and unpleasant, yet he'd gotten the sense that she'd been afraid of him. He didn't want people to be afraid of him, yet it happened fairly frequently – due to his sheer size.

As he reached the walkway that would take him to the Council chamber, he put aside the unpleasant encounter for consideration at another time. He made his way onto the walkway, nodding at a Council member that joined him. "Good morning, Adi," he said.

"Good morning, Qui-Gon," Adi Gallia replied. The exotic looking Corellian female indicated the fast disappearing form of the young woman Qui-Gon had just encountered. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," Qui-Gon said then sighed. He wasn't usually so terse and quick to anger, but his recent discovery had unsettled him more than he'd realized. "Well, I'm not fine, but I _will_ be."

"Hmm." Master Gallia looked thoughtfully at Qui-Gon. "Your news truly must be unsettling if you're snapping at females rather than charming them."

Qui-Gon went pink at the sly allusion to his success with the female populace. He was always honest about his intentions, but sometimes he needed the purely sexual gratification. Yet part of him wanted … more. What he'd had for that short wonderful time with Shmi and Anakin Skywalker all those years ago on Tatooine. He'd realized about six months ago that he was lonely but he'd kept himself aloof from love for so long that it had become habit – a prison where he was his own jailer.

Maybe it was time to start making an effort once more; to start pursuing true friendships with women rather than merely looking for physical gratification. He'd not set a very good example for Obi-Wan he realized now, glad that the younger man had not followed Qui-Gon's habits. Obi-Wan was far more open to the idea of love than Qui-Gon had been in the last ten years, although Qui-Gon wished he could have fallen for someone else.

He didn't dislike the Senator at all, but it seemed that she didn't return Obi-Wan's feelings yet was quite happy to cuddle into and flirt with him. It was cruel and Qui-Gon had thought Padmé better than that.

_He's no longer your Padawan_, Qui-Gon reminded himself. _He doesn't need your protection anymore._ Indeed, Obi-Wan was strong – not just physically but emotionally also. Physically he wasn't quite as strong as Qui-Gon but emotionally he was much stronger and braver.

He entered the Council chamber and nodded to his fellow Jedi, turning his mind back to the issue of Dooku. This was _not_ something he looked forward to sharing, knowing that they would be just as dismayed and shocked as he had been by Dooku's turn to the Dark Side.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé shifted once more on the hard decking and winced, knowing that she was going to be incredibly sore tomorrow. But better to be stiff and sore than to have fallen into Shrike's hands.

She opened her eyes and stared around the dark baggage hold then squeaked when Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around her. He shifted onto his back and lifted her onto him so that she lay sprawled along his warm firm body. "Sleep," he mumbled, tightening his hold when she tried to wriggle off.

"I'm too heavy," Padmé protested.

Obi-Wan chuckled, the rumble sending a pleasant vibration from his chest to Padmé's. "Well, it's possible that someone has made a more ridiculous statement than that, but I don't know of any," he replied. "I prefer a very firm mattress or the floor and you weigh next to nothing – believe me, it's no trouble."

"Well … all right then," Padmé said, dragging her cloak back over her and tucking her head into the crook of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder. She blushed for how intimately they were plastered together.

Obi-Wan brushed aside her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now, please sleep – we'll be landing on Mandalore in around ten hours and you're exhausted."

"Mmmm," Padmé mumbled into his neck, feeling the roughness of the emerging whiskers. "You need to shave again," she said. "You feel scruffy. And your light brown beard would look pretty strange with that dark hair."

"I'll shave in a few hours," Obi-Wan said. "Now stop talking, woman, and let us sleep," he added.

Padmé resisted the urge to put her tongue out at him – it was so dark in this baggage hold that the gesture would be lost on him – and sighed heavily. "I feel sorry for your Padawan – you're so kriffing bossy," she muttered, feeling her eyes grow suddenly heavy. Obi had evidently used the Force on her, but she couldn't be bothered to fight it this time. She really did want to sleep but was having trouble shutting down her brain. So any help was welcome.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Fifteen hours later:**

Padmé watched as the very pretty – very young – woman flung her arms around Obi-Wan in an exuberant greeting. "Gods, I've missed you, Obi!" she declared.

To Padmé's surprise, the sometimes-reserved Obi-Wan returned the hug with interest. "I'm sorry I was away so long this time, Melarina," he said. "And how is Javen?"

Melarina – friend or family? – grinned then grimaced. "I was so proud when he said his first word," she said. "Now I wish he'd be quiet. His favorite words are 'No' and 'Why'."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Three is such a wonderful age," he said sarcastically then blushed. "Goodness; where are my manners?" He reached out and tugged Padmé over to join them. "Padmé; this is Melarina Rin. Melarina; this is Padmé."

"It's nice to meet you," Melarina said, her gray eyes examining Padmé from head to toe. "I've heard so much about you over the last couple of years."

_I wish I could say the same_, Padmé mused, wondering if she was jealous. Maybe Obi-Wan's feelings for her weren't as strong as she'd assumed. "It's good to meet you too," she replied neutrally.

Melarina regarded Padmé again then sighed. "Obi; you didn't tell her, did you?"

Obi-Wan blushed. "It never came up."

"You never told one of your best friends that you have a sister?" Melarina rolled her eyes. "You're shocking."

"Sister?" Padmé gaped at Obi-Wan. "You have a sister?"

"Half blood," Melarina said. "Same father, different mothers. Obi's mother died just after he was born, and his father married my mother about thirteen years later." She smiled beautifully and Padmé suddenly saw the resemblance between the half siblings – they had very similar coloring and the same open smile. "I knew about Obi when I was growing up but we didn't meet till after the Jedi got rid of that stupid no attachments rule."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Just say what you feel, Melarina – don't be shy," he offered dryly.

"Mean old man," Melarina shot back, sticking her tongue out at him then tucking her hand into his. "Well … come in. I've got a light meal I can prepare quickly for you, and Javen's dying to see his Uncle Obi again."

"Where's Corran?" Obi-Wan asked as they entered the small house.

Melarina sighed. "I asked him to leave about three weeks ago," she said. "I got tired of him coming home smelling of sex and cheap perfume. I deserve better."

"You do," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "I'm sorry you've been hurt, but it's good that it's over."

"Mmm," Melarina agreed. "I just wish he made more of an effort with Javen, though – you divorce spouses, you shouldn't divorce your children."

"I can pay him a visit if you'd like," Obi-Wan offered.

"No, but thank you," Melarina replied. "If he doesn't want to be a father, I'm not going to force him. It's his choice … and his loss."

"Unka Obi! Unka Obi!" came a high pitched shriek at that point, and a little boy came running into the living area as nude as the day he was born, and flung himself at Obi-Wan.

Padmé watched the redheaded little boy – who looked very much like Obi-Wan – as he threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, chattering happily in a mix of Basic and Mandalorian. The little boy had Obi's – and Melarina's – gray eyes and fair skin, making them look almost like father and son.

And she found herself wondering what any children she might have in the future would look like. Would they look like her or Obi … What was she doing? She had no intention of having children with Obi-Wan – why couldn't the hormone-driven mush that passed for her brain realize that?

"Who dat?" Little Javen pointed at Padmé with a grimy forefinger.

"This is Padmé, a very good friend of mine," Obi-Wan replied easily, comfortably – and Padmé realized suddenly how he'd developed his ease with children.

"Oh." The finger went back in his mouth and Obi-Wan tugged it free. "Pretty lady," Javen pronounced.

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed with a twinkling smile to Padmé.

"Looks like … p'incess in my story book," Javen added with a yawn. It was early evening on Mandalore, that planet being many hours ahead of Naboo time, and it was evidently coming close to Javen's bedtime.

She smiled at the youngling, whose legs were now clamped around Obi-Wan's waist. "Thank you," she said. She smiled when he yawned again, knowing that she would be going to bed herself in a few hours. It was always best to adapt to the diurnal patterns of a planet as quickly as possible to prevent upsetting the body.

Thankfully, the poor night's sleep she'd gotten on the freighter meant that she was more than ready for a quiet night lying in a warm soft bed as opposed to lying on a warm firm body. Although both locations had their merits, she reflected with a small grin.

"Padmé; how do you like your caf?" Melarina asked now.

Padmé went over to the younger woman. "Strong and black," she said, watching as Melarina bustled around the kitchen, putting together a light meal. "I hope we're not putting you to too much trouble," she said guiltily, realizing that this young woman – barely out of her teens – wasn't very well off. She could hardly afford two extra mouths to feed, but at least Padmé now had a use for the money Obi-Wan had won at sabacc.

"Obi's family and you're his best friend," Melarina said simply as if that's all there was to be said. "We do for family." She handed Padmé her mug and then waved her hand at the food. "If you want to help, though, you're more than welcome."

Padmé cringed slightly – she'd always been what Sola described as 'domestically retarded'. "Unless you want to die of food poisoning, I shouldn't cook," she admitted.

Melarina chuckled, showing dimples much like Obi-Wan's. Evidently their father's genes ran strongly in this family. She handed Padmé a knife and indicated some raw vegetables. "Well, you chop and I'll cook."

"That I can do," Padmé said, rolling her eyes when Obi-Wan snorted back a laugh.

"Instead of laughing, you mean old man, make yourself useful," Melarina scolded her much older brother. "I need you to supervise Javen's bath."

"My pleasure," Obi-Wan said, turning and heading out of the living room.

Melarina giggled when Obi-Wan's form had disappeared and Padmé raised her eyebrows in question. "Javen is a water baby – anyone in the same room generally finds themselves on the receiving end of an unwanted soaking."

Sure enough, a yell from the bathroom ten minutes later indicated that Obi-Wan had been caught unaware, and Padmé smirked when he popped his soaked head out to call for a towel. "Here," Melarina said, throwing a fluffy white towel at the head.

"Thanks so much for warning me by the way, sister dear," he said dryly, scrubbing at his head before disappearing once more.

Melarina laughed. "Any time!" she called back, handing a long sharp knife to Padmé and waving at the vegetables. "Ohh, he's going to get a spectacular, horrible revenge," she added. "He's making up for years of not knowing me – I wonder who he tormented _before_ he met me."

"Qui-Gon, I suppose," Padmé replied. "He'd need _someone_ to torment, and his Master would have been the most obvious target."

Melarina sprinkled herbs into the large pot on the old fashioned stove. "And now he's a Master himself, with an apprentice. Does his apprentice torture him?"

"I don't know her very well," Padmé said, "but I torment him enough – I love watching him blush."

Melarina giggled. "I knew I was going to like you!" she said then handed Padmé a spoon. "Here; stir the _remaki_ while I make the _shil_ bean sauce."

"Uh … all right," Padmé said, stirring the heavenly-smelling concoction on the stove. "It smells wonderful," she added. "I hadn't realized I was hungry until just now."

"Well, you've been traveling a while – I've heard it can do strange things to the body."

"You've _heard_?"

Melarina shrugged her shoulders. "I've never been able to get off world," she said. "I was very young when Javen was born. But I wouldn't give him up for anything."

"I'd like to repay you for your hospitality," Padmé said. "If you'd like a vacation, come to Coruscant. You'll be able to see Obi and you can stay with me – I have more room than he does."

"Oh! Well … I think I'd like that," Melarina sad. "You're very kind."

"You're Obi-Wan's sister and he's my best friend," Padmé said. "It'll be good for you two to spend more time together."

Melarina surprised Padmé by reaching over and hugging her. "Thank you," she said. "When I heard that Obi was bringing a Senator, I was worried you'd be some sort of manipulative political type. I'm glad I was wrong."

Padmé chuckled. "Obi-Wan has just about as good an opinion of politicians as you," she said, relinquishing the spoon to her newest friend and chopping some of the purple tuber. "I think he regards me as the happy exception."

"Mmm," Melarina said, her eyes flickering over Padmé's face.

"What?" Padmé asked, unnerved by the sharp assessing look from one so young.

"Oh … nothing," Melarina replied. "Don't worry about it."

_Right_, Padmé mused scornfully but knew better than to press Melarina. If she were anything like her older brother, the Kenobi stubbornness would simply kick in and she'd get nowhere.


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER ****10**

"The Senate should be informed that our ability to use the Force has diminished," Master Mace Windu pronounced.

"Respectfully, I don't believe that's a good idea," Qui-Gon protested – not all that respectfully. As far as he was concerned, the Senate was gaining far too much control over the Jedi. And if they found out that the Jedi had been unable to see the darkness surrounding Tyln Dooku, their enemies within the Senate would have even more power over them. And the Jedi Order did have enemies in high political circles – that much Qui-Gon knew.

"Agree with Qui-Gon I do," Yoda chimed in. "Enemies unseen the Jedi Order has – if tell the Senate of our weakness, an advantage that will give to our enemies and multiply our adversaries will." He looked around the gathered Masters, his old but still sharp eyes taking in their somber faces. "Darkness is now Dooku's way, trickery and lies, but everything he says we should not dismiss. Known we have for some time now that changing the Republic is, darkness and corruption growing stronger."

"What are you saying, Master?" Qui-Gon asked.

"For now, observe and learn we simply should," the smallest Jedi replied. "The Naboo blockade, the attack on you at Theed, the rise of the Separatists, the attempts on Senator Amidala's life – connected they all are. Clear it is not how they are connected, but a connection … yes." He drifted off into silence and chewed solemnly on the end of his gimer stick – something he only did when he was deeply troubled.

Mace and Qui-Gon exchanged glances then, taking this as dismissal, rose from their seats as the holograms of the other Jedi Masters flickered off. They exited the Council chamber and Qui-Gon looked at his fellow Master. "I've never seen Master Yoda look … frightened before," he said soberly.

"These are troubling times," Mace said. "And it has been so long since we lost one of our own to the Dark Side – not since …"

"Xanatos," Qui-Gon said heavily, reflecting on one of his former Padawans, who had turned to the darkness. He'd blamed himself for his lenient methods – being far too inclined to praise and flatter the powerful young man. As a result he had been overly strict with his next Padawan, Obi-Wan.

Mace sighed, unusually for the stoic Jedi. "You can't keep blaming yourself for Xanatos," he said. "He was a grown man – the choice was entirely his."

"I know," Qui-Gon replied. "But maybe if I'd been firmer, it would have checked his headstrong, passionate ways."

Mace smiled suddenly. "What?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Back then, my old friend, you were no example of how to tame headstrong passionate ways," Mace pointed out. "It was only after the blockade on Naboo that you learned caution, began to meditate more."

"Mmm," Qui-Gon agreed. He and Xanatos had perhaps been too alike – strong and powerful, yet lacking in self-control. Qui-Gon had learned to control his passions after losing Shmi and Anakin – Xanatos had never been forced to learn that lesson.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé scratched absently behind her ear as she watched Obi-Wan playing with his young nephew, the boy's delighted squeals echoing through the small house.

"He'd make such a good father," Melarina said, appearing suddenly from behind Padmé and handing her a tall glass of juice.

"Mmm," Padmé agreed. "Thank you." She examined the green liquid uncertainly then took a sip. It was delicious – fruity without been overly sweet.

"You've seen him more than I have the last year," Melarina said. "Is there … does he have anyone in his life? I asked him, but he evaded the question."

"Not as far as I know," Padmé prevaricated. She could understand Obi-Wan's evasion, given the attraction he and Padmé had to each other. "And I'm not … comfortable gossiping about him, to be honest."

"Fair enough," Melarina replied. "What about you, Padmé? Are you involved with anyone?"

"No," Padmé said easily enough. "I've had a few relationships but none lasted long – I found more satisfaction with politics."

"A politician won't kiss your neck and make you shiver – I _hope_," Melarina said. Then smiled. "Unless it's that Alderaan Senator, Bail Organa. Delicious. Corran and I should never have married, but we were certainly good between the silks." She laughed then grinned at Padmé. "Have you ever met Master Jinn, Obi's old Master?"

"Yes; I know him quite well," Padmé said, trying to keep up with the way the girl bounced from topic to topic – she was far more scatter-brained than her older brother. "Well … as much as anyone _does_ know him. He's quite private."

"Mmm," Melarina agreed. "He's very sexy, though, don't you think?"

Padmé was startled at that – Melarina was fifty years younger than Qui-Gon – and then recalled her own small crush on the big handsome Jedi. "Yes; he _is_ attractive," she replied, enjoying this rare opportunity to talk with another girl. "He's way too old for you, though."

"Not old – seasoned, experienced," Melarina shot back. "Corran will probably look like him when he gets older, knowing my luck. I'd be much happier if he got fat and lost all his hair."

Padmé grinned wickedly. "You might get lucky," she said, hearing the bitterness and anger beneath the younger woman's light-hearted words.

"Think I could place a curse on him?"

"Curses don't work … What about itching powder in his underthings?" Padmé rubbed at that annoying spot behind her ear – speaking of itching …

Melarina eyed Padmé with admiration. "You're sneaky and devious," she pronounced. "I like you."

"Thank you," Padmé replied. "Break into his employment records and add a spell in prison for indecent exposure."

"I really, _really_ like you." Melarina laughed delightedly. "Shame I'm completely computer-illiterate."

"I'm not," Padmé replied with a short giggle.

"Should I even ask?" Obi-Wan inquired, appearing suddenly at that point with Javen on his shoulders.

"Oh, just plotting fiendish and outlandish forms of revenge for Corran," Melarina told him.

"Ah. Well, don't let me stop you," Obi-Wan said and headed out of the little house – the rain had just stopped, although more threatened.

Melarina giggled. "If I'd said that a couple of years ago, I would have received a warning about the Dark Side," she confided. "He's a lot more easygoing than he used to be."

"He must be mellowing in his old age," Padmé shot back with an undignified snort of laughter. Then squeaked when a hand came through the open window and tugged at her hair.

"Evil little woman," Obi-Wan said before setting down a giggling Javen, who promptly ran off as swiftly as his short legs could carry him. Obi-Wan grinned and gave chase.

Padmé patted her heart, which was beating rapidly courtesy of Obi-Wan's sneak attack. "That man should wear a bell," she said.

Melarina laughed at that then went over to the cooling unit and brought out a large covered jug of fruit juice. "Want some more?" she asked.

"Lovely," Padmé replied and allowed Melarina to top up her glass.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Melarina leaned out of the window, watching her son and brother wrestling happily in the short springy grass near her house, uncaring of the fact that it was still wet. Obi really _was_ good with Javen – he should have had children of his own by now, and she wondered what was stopping him, given that the Jedi Code no longer forbade attachments.

Maybe he simply hadn't met the right woman yet. Obi-Wan was an old-fashioned romantic in a galaxy of façades and convenience, was able to see past a person's outward appearance to the true person inside. It was both his gift and his curse, and he'd refused a number of Melarina's attempts to set him up, perhaps seeing something in those people that Melarina couldn't.

Over the last few years, Melarina had gotten to know Obi-Wan better and she was starting to realize what kind of female would suit him. She'd have to be strong, caring, passionate … able to appreciate Obi-Wan's often-skewed sense of humor and sarcasm. What she looked like wouldn't matter – Obi-Wan didn't seem to have a specific physical 'type' – but she _would_ probably be quite small. He …

Melarina looked at Padmé properly. She was strong, caring and seemed to actually enjoy Obi-Wan's sarcasm, giving as good as she got. And the way they'd both evaded Melarina's questions about his personal life … That was a bit of a reach, she realized, but despite the failure of her own marriage, Melarina was still a romantic in her young heart.

"Boo," came a dry voice from behind her and she squeaked in shock, turning round to see Obi-Wan smirking at her, Javen once more astride his shoulders.

"Gods … Wear a bell, would you, Obi?" she said.

Javen giggled, patting Obi-Wan's head. "Hungry," he demanded. His communication skills flip-flopped between full articulate sentences and monosyllabic demands, but Melarina had put that down to both his age and the tensions between his parents over the last few months. She was confident that this was just a 'stage' that he was going through – she'd raised her son well and never allowed him to get away with brattish behavior.

"Not yet," Obi-Wan replied, gripping firmly onto Javen's sturdy little legs as he made his way over to the counter and poured out a large glass of fruit juice. "You can have something to drink but that's it."

The youngling pouted. "Hun-_greee_," he pointed out, emphasizing the last syllable as if he thought Obi-Wan hadn't understood him.

"We heard you the first time," Melarina said. "And your uncle said 'No'. Fruit juice or bed – choose."

"_HUNGRY!_"

He chose poorly. Melarina reached up and plucked her indignant son from Obi-Wan's shoulders, delivering a short spank to his rear. He screamed as if he'd been tortured and then began crying. Melarina sighed. "When he starts acting like this, I _know_ he's tired," she said then toted her crying son into the bedroom and popped him into his little bed.

Once he was actually in bed, he settled down quickly, hugging his stuffed Wookiee and putting a thumb into his mouth. Melarina leaned down and kissed his plump cheek, pulling the thumb out. She looked back as she made her way out and smiled when she saw that the thumb had gone straight back in.

Closing the door behind her, she left her son to his much needed nap and made her way back to the kitchen … to find Obi-Wan and Padmé locked in a passionate kiss. It was something like looking at a speeder wreck – she didn't _want_ to look, but she couldn't stop herself.

Then, suddenly, Padmé pushed herself away. "No; I can't," she said. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." And then she fled outside.

"I'll go after her, Obi," Melarina said, halting her brother with a grip on his arm. "I think you need to back off."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "She kissed me," he said. "I'm trying to be patient, but I'm starting to feel like she's playing games." He sighed. "This … wasn't a new thing – it's happened several times in the last few days."

"Oh," Melarina replied. True; she hadn't known Padmé for very long, but she'd thought the Nubian woman was better than that. Maybe she'd been right after all in assuming that Padmé was just another manipulative political type.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé dashed out of the little house, gulping back her tears. She had to control herself and quickly! The frown on Obi-Wan's face when she pulled back told her that she was using up his vast reservoir of patience, and she didn't want to lose him. He was so important to her, so sweet and giving, yet strong and stubborn – he was nobody's doormat.

She sat down in the grass, uncaring of the fact that her pants were getting wet, and plucked a few blades absently while scowling, deep in thought. She couldn't lose Obi-Wan from her life, yet she knew that two people strongly attracted to each other could rarely remain 'just friends'. And she did love the man – but was it the kind of love that she'd dreamed of as an adolescent? Gods know, Obi-Wan was a passionate man – she had the red throbbing lips as evidence – but he'd never sweep a woman off her feet unless she'd injured her leg and couldn't walk. He'd never been a fan of big dramatic gestures.

She looked up when she heard the door open and saw Obi-Wan stalk out, a frown on his face. She got up and debated whether or not to go to him but was stymied when he looked at her then deliberately turned in the opposite direction, heading east at a very fast pace. Oh kriff … had she lost him? The tears she'd been holding back slipped free, rolling down her cheeks as she plumped back down. She knew that she deserved to have lost him, but it still hurt.

The door to the little house opened once more and Melarina appeared this time, looking out. Padmé swiped a hand over her face and pointed to the now distant figure of Melarina's half brother. "He went that way," she said.

"Thank you," Melarina replied coolly then frowned slightly. "Are you … all right?" she added, coming closer to Padmé.

Padmé sniffed and wiped at another tear. "Of course I'm not all right," she said. "I've hurt my best friend, one of the nicest men I've ever known. All because I'm attracted to him." There. She'd finally admitted it out loud and to a near-stranger at that. She should have been mortified, but it actually felt good to say it out loud. It felt … right.

"Well, stop it," Melarina said bluntly. "If you don't return his feelings, stop playing with him. He deserves better."

"I know," Padmé replied, stung by the scolding tone. "I … Someone told me that he's in love with me and I seem to be having more trouble resisting him now."

"Have you thought that you might be in love with him too?" Melarina asked her, sitting down next to Padmé.

"I think I'd know," Padmé scoffed.

"Not necessarily," Melarina replied. "You've been in politics for … what … twelve years?" Padmé nodded her head. "Politicians tend to have to wear masks – say the right words, do the right things. Or whatever's politically expedient at the time."

Padmé frowned at the slur to her chosen career. "You seem to know a lot about the Republic Senate considering you've never even left the planet," she said nastily.

Melarina frowned in return. "So I've never left Mandalore – that doesn't make me parochial or stupid," she said sharply. "My point was that you're not free to be yourself. You've always had to think of the galactic good – you were so young when you became Queen." She smiled suddenly. "I'm talking to a _Queen_ … good gods. Anyway; you never really got to finish your childhood, and you're surprised that you don't know how to handle a man like Obi-Wan? Especially if you're in love with him?"

"But I'm _not_ in love with him!" Padmé protested reflexively. "I don't think," she added doubtfully.

"Hmm," Melarina said. "Did you know that you brighten every time he enters the room? Or that you look for him whenever _you_ come into a room?"

"But he's my best friend," Padmé said. "I can't be in love with my best friend."

"My mother and father were friends for years before they married," Melarina said. "And they were passionately happy together. Of course they argued, but they never let the sun set on their anger. If they were still alive, they'd be snuggled together right now, watching their grandchild grow up." She sighed. "I thought I could have that with Corran, but all we had was passion – it couldn't stand up to the realities of married life." Then she grinned. "But _what_ passion!"

Padmé shook her head, nearly dizzy from the younger woman's mercurial chopping and changing. "I don't know …," she murmured.

"Well, you're entitled to feel whatever you feel," Melarina said. "But if you can't love Obi-Wan then, for kriff's sake, leave him alone. Let him find the love and passion he deserves if you don't have the courage to give him that."

Padmé frowned at the accusation of cowardice, but a small part of her acknowledged that the younger woman made a lot of sense. "Ugh … why does it have to be so difficult?"

Melarina shrugged. "I don't have all the answers, Padmé," she said, once again sounding far wiser than her years. "But if everything came easily, would it be worth having?"

"Mmm," Padmé said and sighed. It seemed that she was going to have to carry out some intensive soul-searching over the next few days. She needed to find out where her heart truly lay – with the best friend she'd ever had or with some nebulous romantic figure conjured up from adolescent dreams and holo-films.

Maybe if she looked at Obi-Wan objectively; tried to forget the 'best friend' label she'd pinned on him. He was a passionate man. Matured, full-grown, steady and reliable, yet with a scathing sense of humor that she thoroughly enjoyed. And by the Sith hells, he was handsome. Perhaps not in a conventional "tall, dark and …" way, but the bright eyes, slim muscular body, fair hair and complexion were immensely attractive.

Obi-Wan was the complete package and it would make so much sense for her to be in love with him. "How do you know?" she said, completing her thoughts out loud. "How do you know when you're in love? I don't get nervous or shy around him; my heart doesn't pound by his mere presence – is that a real sign of being in love or have I read too many romance novels?"

Melarina shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "Everyone's different," she said. "I thought I was in love with Corran but I was probably more in love with the _idea_ of being in love – he seemed to fit so perfectly with what I thought was the man I should be in love with." She nudged Padmé. "Sound familiar?" she added wryly.

"All too familiar," Padmé replied then startled when she heard an indignant childish roar. "I think someone's up."

"Not for long." Melarina got up. "Anyway; I'm going to throw my son back into bed and then make some lunch. It'll be ready in about a half an hour if you're hungry."

Padmé got up also. "Thank you," she said, drawing her newest friend into a brief hug. "I'm going to have to do some serious thinking but I'll come back in when I get hungry."

Melarina returned the hug then gave that dazzling Kenobi smile. "All right," she replied, tugging off her thick shawl and handing it to Padmé. "No sense in you freezing while you're out here," she added.

"Thank you," Padmé said once more.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Obi-Wan made his way rapidly along the path, uncaring of the brisk winds that whipped through his hair and tugged at his clothing. He was trying very hard to remain patient with Padmé, but the flawed human in him was becoming angry at her behavior – kissing him and then backing off, kissing him and then backing off.

That flawed human being shouted "Typical politician – lying and using" but the better part of him realized that the young woman was confused and possibly a little scared. She'd never liked being out of control and her passionate interactions with Obi-Wan showed very little of her usual self-control and cool-headedness.

He stopped at the top of the hill and looked around. Mandalore wasn't the prettiest of planets, that much was certain; with its heavy industry scarring much of what had once been lush countryside. But every world had its own beauty if one cared to look closely enough – the biggest attractions here were his sister and nephew.

He recalled when he'd first made the decision to look up his natural family just after the Naboo blockade. His father had remarried and he and his second wife had a ten year old girl named Melarina. Obi-Wan was quite reserved – even a little shy – so had not initiated contact with his newfound family. An invitation had come from his father several years later and Qui-Gon had urged his former Padawan to accept.

"I was orphaned when I was a baby and have never been able to find my family," the older man had said seriously. "Family is a good thing – you should take the chance," he added.

"I do want to, M … Qui-Gon," the young Knight had replied. "I think. I was prepared for the fact that some family might show up once the rules against attachments were lifted, but …"

"You have a sister, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, looking at the holo that Obi-Wan's father had sent of the laughing youngling. He smiled a touch sadly. "She reminds me a little of Anakin," he added, the pain of his loss three years earlier still weighing heavily on him. "It's entirely your decision, but don't let fear prevent you from accepting someone into your life and heart."

This was an ironic comment coming from a man that had avoided personal relationships like the Berovian plague for the last three years, but Obi-Wan could see his point.


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Obi-Wan blinked and returned his thoughts to the present when a raindrop fell onto his nose. Then he drew the hood of his cloak over his head as more raindrops splattered down, rapidly becoming a deluge.

Obi-Wan was strong and disciplined – could handle and even enjoy many types of weather extremes – but he _really_ didn't like the rain. He'd grown up on Coruscant which was climate-controlled – the rain came but at pre-determined times of the year and in pre-determined quantities. A wild downpour with howling winds like this sudden Mandalore storm was really not to his liking.

He ducked his head as the rising winds whipped leaves and sticks into his face, and used his not-inconsiderable strength to push further along the path, going at a much faster pace than that he'd taken in getting to this comparatively isolated part of his sister's home. As he walked and battled the weather, he found that he was able to think more calmly about his situation with Padmé.

He loved her and was willing to be understanding and patient, but he was _not_ willing to be taken for granted even by the woman he loved. This game she was playing – advance and retreat – was growing wearisome. It was foolish and adolescent and he realized for the first time just how much younger Padmé was than him. Eleven years was a lot when one of the people in question was only 24. In some ways she was very mature, but those events that had made her grow up had also caused her to miss out on some of her childhood.

Obi-Wan pulled a face. She was young but she was no child, and he was done making excuses for her. When he got back to the house, he was going to tell her the truth – that he loved her and wanted to be with her. And he would demand her honesty in return – if she couldn't give him that, they obviously didn't have much of a friendship.

Obi-Wan turned and headed back to the house, grim determination etching his youthful features. No more delays – they were going to talk now.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

A couple of hours later, Obi-Wan blew back into his sister's small house, shaking his head like a wet animal, and hung up his cloak. He aimed a small smile at his sister, who handed him a steaming mug of _kevas_. "Thanks," he said then indicated his bedroom. "I'm just going to get changed," he added.

"All right," Melarina replied.

Obi-Wan went into his bedroom, stripping his sopping clothing from his body, only to stop when he heard a short feminine gasp. Blushing furiously, he turned and saw Padmé lying in his bed, wrapped up in an ugly blue garment and nursing her own steaming mug. "Padmé!" he got out, clutching the clothes to him.

"I'm sorry," Padmé got out, her nose sounding stuffed up. "I think I'm getting a cold, so Melarina put me in here because it's warmer than my room. She should have told you." She scratched at a spot just below her ear then sneezed.

"I can guess why she didn't," Obi-Wan replied darkly. His sister was a romantic, despite the failure of her marriage, and had evidently decided that Obi-Wan and Padmé were suited. That scorching kiss she'd witnessed would have contributed a great deal to the young woman's reasoning, Obi-Wan realized.

But now … how to get out of here with a semblance of his usual dignity.

He looked back at Padmé, to find that she'd closed her eyes, breathing loudly through her mouth and still clutching her mug. She looked about ten years old with her red nose and fever-brightened cheeks and bundled in that hideous garment. She'd be furious if he mentioned it, but she really looked cute.

He smiled and pulled his wet pants and shirt back on then went over to the bed and pressed a tender kiss to Padmé's hot forehead. "Sleep well," he murmured, put her mug on the bedside table, and then headed out to where his bedroom now was. "We'll talk later."

"Mmm…," Padmé murmured from the depths of sleep. "Love you …"

"What?" Obi-Wan was shocked by that and whirled to face Padmé, only to be answered by a snort and a sigh from the ill woman. _Well, talk about anti-climax_, he complained to himself.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Melarina looked up from the small garment she was mending when Obi-Wan appeared, dressed in dry clothes and rubbing at his head with a towel. He glared at her and she grinned. "Is everything all right?" she asked in her best innocent manner.

Obi-Wan scowled. "You really are a brat," he said, reaching for his cup of _kevas_ and taking a sip. It was perfect for drinking, and he downed it rapidly, appreciating the warmth that spread throughout his body.

"Thank you," Melarina replied with a giggle. "Nothing like a bit of nudity to break the ice – I just hope she appreciated it."

"She was barely coherent," Obi-Wan said. "This illness seems to have hit her very hard." He sighed. "She's been extremely worn out and stressed the last couple of weeks – she needs to rest, so catching this cold was probably a good thing." Republic medicine could do much, but minor upper respiratory infections were still common – especially in those with weak immune systems or who didn't take care of themselves properly.

The latter included Padmé and Obi-Wan vowed that he was going to make sure she looked after herself better. As her best friend – and the man who would like to be much more to her – he wanted to look after her, but knew that she would chafe at being coddled.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"Are you still angry with her?" Melarina asked curiously. He didn't _seem_ angry but, then again, he'd never been given to dramatic displays of emotions.

And Obi-Wan sighed again. "Part of me wants to be," he admitted, "but she's just a little too adorable at the moment for me to be harsh with her."

"Adorable?" Melarina squinted at the older man – it was time to visit the oculist again. "Big brother; she's turned you into a sap."

"I'm afraid so," Obi-Wan replied mildly. "But that's what love will do."

"So, you're really in love with her – it's not just an attraction?" Melarina asked excitedly, resisting the urge to jump up and down, clapping her hands. At 20 Standard years, she should be past that kind of behavior.

Obi-Wan went pink. "I didn't mean to admit that," he said, "but yes. I'm very much in love with her. She doesn't feel the same way, though she _is_ attracted to me."

"Um … yes; I think that's pretty obvious," Melarina said. "That kiss … whew!" She fanned her face dramatically and suppressed the giggle as her brother went scarlet.

"Yes … well …" Obi-Wan coughed then busied himself in the kitchen, making a pot of caf. "You want some?"

"Since when do you drink caf?" Melarina asked curiously. "And yes, please."

"I've recently acquired a taste for it," Obi-Wan replied, sniffing curiously at the opened package of ground beans. He shrugged and poured the caf into the machine then switched it on to percolate. The rich smell of caf floated through the kitchen and into the living room.

"Do I smell caf?"

Melarina looked up from her sewing in surprise. "What are you doing up?" she asked the flushed and sweating Senator.

"She sensed the caf," Obi-Wan said, smiling at the adorably disheveled woman. "Padmé; you need to go back to bed."

"What?" The woman looked at him, confused. "Not bed – caf." She tottered unsteadily into the living room then paused and scratched at her neck again. "I'm not feeling good," she told the settee then plumped down heavily and sneezed several times.

Melarina and Obi-Wan exchanged looks and then Obi-Wan went over to Padmé, who was now reclined on the settee, dozing off. He took her hands and got her to her feet. "Let's get you back into bed."

Padmé shook her head. "You're really cute, Obi, but I'm not sleeping with you," she said.

"Who was asking you to?" Obi-Wan shot back and Melarina tried in vain to muffle her snort of laughter. She couldn't help it – Obi and Padmé were just so entertaining. "You need to rest, Padmé."

"You're not my father either," Padmé said thickly, now scratching at her head. "Itchy …," she grumbled with an accusing glare before sneezing once more.

Melarina suddenly recognized Padmé's symptoms – as an allergic reaction to something. "Padmé; do you have any allergies?"

Padmé sneezed then focused blearily on Melarina. "No," she said and sniffed. "Constitution like … like … well, strong constitution."

Obi-Wan frowned then lifted up Padmé's hair to examine her ears. "The hair color," he said. "Could she have had a reaction to something in the hair color?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Padmé scolded.

"Possibly," Melarina said, remembering the time she'd tried to go blonde – she'd come out in a very similar rash to Padmé's but hadn't experienced the sneezing and stuffiness. That was obviously a separate condition, exacerbated by the stress and exhaustion that she could now see in the older woman. "Will it wash out?"

"It'll take around 24 washes but yes," Obi-Wan replied.

"And she's too ill to stay in the fresher for that long," Melarina added, "even if my water supply was unlimited – which it isn't." She sighed. "We'll just have to treat the itching until she's recovered from this cold; then we can wash the hair dye out."

"I'm _still here_," Padmé said crossly, sneezing and then sniffing.

"Not for long," Obi-Wan said then scooped her up in his arms like he would a baby. "Be sensible, Padmé – you need to rest."

Padmé scowled then coughed. "Why can't I stay mad at you, Obi-Wan?" she inquired plaintively.

"You said it yourself – I'm cute," Obi-Wan teased, striding out of the living room.

"Braggart," Padmé grumbled but allowed the man to bear her away.

Melarina laughed at their antics and then sighed. They really made a good pair – it was such a shame that Padmé couldn't seem to see that.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé looked through bleary eyes at the handsome Jedi who was carrying her to bed. "If I didn't feel so horrible, this could be really romantic," she observed.

Obi-Wan's shoulders shook with a gentle laugh. "Amazing. Even feeling like death warmed over, you can still make smart remarks," he observed.

"It's my nose that's stuffed up, not my brain," Padmé retorted then sneezed. "I'm getting sick of this too," she added darkly. "D'you have any Jedi magic to clear a stuffed nose and stop sneezing?"

"No; but a warm bath with _jula_ oil will help," Obi-Wan said. "Melarina should probably have some – Javen used to get a lot of colds when he was younger."

Padmé sighed at the thought of immersing her aching body in warm water. "That sounds nice," she said thickly then frowned. "I didn't get my caf!" she exclaimed.

"And you're not going to either," Obi-Wan retorted, a small smile playing on his lips. "You can have _kevas_, water or juice – caf will only dehydrate you."

"Big bully," Padmé grumbled then caught at his hand. "I'm sorry about before," she said. "You deserve better than how I've been treating you lately."

"This isn't the right time to talk about it," Obi-Wan replied.

"There'll never be a _right_ time," Padmé argued, "and I don't want you thinking I don't care." She took as deep a breath as she could manage then regretted it when she began coughing harshly, her chest heaving.

"Padmé … calm down," Obi-Wan said, rubbing his hand soothingly over her back.

Padmé coughed once more then sniffled, her face scarlet and her eyes streaming. "Sorry," she said. "Anyway, I _do_ love you but … I don't know if it's a friendship type of love or romantic love." She sighed. "I wish someone could wave a magic wand and tell me."

Obi-Wan smiled at her. "You'd resent being _told_ how you felt," he pointed out.

Padmé pulled a face then shrugged – he was perfectly right of course, but she wasn't about to admit that. "I don't want to keep hurting you – I'm going to have to be stronger." She sighed and looked at the handsome Jedi sitting down next to her on the bed. "It'd be easier if you were less sweet and sexy – it's a deadly combination."

Obi-Wan went a bright scarlet that nearly matched Padmé's over-rubbed nose and got up. "Anyway; drink your _kevas_ and I'll get the _jula_ oil from Melarina and run your bath."

Padmé sneezed then took a sip of _kevas_. It was warm and tasty, soothing her poor scratchy throat, but she wasn't about to admit _that_ to Obi-Wan either – the man was too smart for his own good. "Thank you," she got out thickly.

She watched the man leave the room, appreciating the way his pants caressed his rear end. _Hmm … you can't be feeling TOO ill, Padmé_, she mused, wishing she could replace his pants with her hands. If she thought really hard, she could almost _feel_ the taut musculature under her hands. A wave of heat spread over her as she became aroused and she took another deep breath, which of course caused a loud hacking cough. Really not a good time for erotic thoughts.

Obi-Wan walked back in, bearing a large jar filled with purple liquid, and went into the fresher. Shortly after, Padmé heard water running and Obi-Wan came back out with a thick fluffy white robe. He put it on the bed and turned his back chivalrously. "Get changed into that while your bath's running," he said over his shoulder.

Padmé got out of the bed and wobbled slightly. She grit her teeth against the dizziness that assailed her then pulled her nightgown over her head before summoning up the strength to get into the bathrobe. That minimal exercise was nearly her undoing and she felt absurdly weepy. "I'm ready now," she said, hoping that Obi-Wan would read her teary eyes and red nose as part of the virus.

Obi-Wan turned back round then swiftly wrapped his arms around her. "Gods … you really _are_ feeling awful, aren't you?" he crooned.

"Uh-huh." Padmé knew she sounded about Javen's age, but it seemed too much of an effort to say anything more. "I'll feel better after my bath, though," she added almost reluctantly. Being held by Obi-Wan Kenobi was nice – very nice – and she decided that she didn't want him to let go. Ever.

She gasped at her realization and Obi-Wan looked down at her in concern. "Your bath's nearly ready," he said, rubbing his hand across her back in soothing circles.

"No. No; it's not that," she said. "I'm not getting worse. I just … realized something." She snorted loudly, inelegantly – disgustingly even – but it unblocked her nose enough for her to be able to speak normally. "Obi … I … I think I'm in love with you – that's why I've been acting so oddly lately."

Silence.

Oh Gods … Maybe Melarina had got her facts wrong and Obi really _wasn't_ in love with her. "Say something, please," she said. "Even if it's just to tell me that I'm insane."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and then took her hands. He leaned in and brushed his lips sweetly against hers in a kiss that was oddly chaste and sensual at the same time. "You're not insane, Padmé," he replied. "I'm in love with you too."

This moment for which she'd waited her whole life … it was nowhere near as fiery and dramatic as she'd always imaged, yet it was no less powerful for its simplicity. She took in a deep breath, ready to lean in and capture his sweet lips once more, and then regretted it when a powerful cough rattled her lungs.

Obi-Wan gave a short laugh. "How to enhance a moment," he said dryly. "Your bath should be ready now, Padmé," he added, seeming to take refuge in banality.

"All right," Padmé replied, feeling herself becoming stuffy again. She allowed him to escort her into the fresher – her legs were a little more wobbly than she liked – and sighed in bliss at the sight of the deep tub filled with steaming water. She let go of Obi-Wan's hand reluctantly and pulled off her bathrobe, smiling when Obi-Wan went pink and turned his back. "Don't turn away," she said. "We love each other … and I'm not ashamed of my body. I _want_ you to look at me."

The tips of Obi-Wan's ears were pink as well but he turned back around. Padmé shivered as he examined her from the top of her untidy head to the tips of her toes, his blue-gray eyes darkening to deep gray with desire. With the way she felt at the moment, that was a small miracle in itself. "You're … exquisite," he said. "I'm almost afraid to touch you."

"I won't break," Padmé said, enthralled with how natural and right this seemed. She'd never been naked in front of a male before – shouldn't she have been self-conscious? She took his hand and led him over to the tub. "But I'm a bit shaky," she admitted, holding onto his hand as she stepped into the tub and sat down. "Oh … that's good," she added, all of a sudden struggling to keep her eyes open.

Obi-Wan smiled then took a washcloth and dipped it into the water before handing it to her. "You know what's strange?" he asked.

"What?"

"You and I together like this _isn't_ strange," he replied as Padmé buried her face in the washcloth, breathing in deeply of the _jula_ oil.

"Will of the Force?" Padmé suggested thoughtfully. While she was completely Force null, she could respect Obi-Wan's connection to the mysterious Force.

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "I've never been very comfortable with my feelings, but my being in love with you feels so incredibly right that I had no urge to question it."

"Oh," Padmé said. "If I was Force sensitive, I would have come to the same realization sooner and saved you a lot of pain." She put the washcloth to one side and then took Obi-Wan's face in her hands. "I'm truly sorry – it must have seemed like I was playing with you when I really wasn't."

"I know and I understand," Obi-Wan replied then handed her the washcloth. "I admit that I was angry with you earlier – even I can lose my temper, though it takes a lot – but I've only ever wanted your happiness. And if that had been with another man, I would have supported you and remained your friend."

"While suffering in noble silence," Padmé said then sniffed. "Or even 'noble silence'," she enunciated carefully. "Perhaps the deep conversations can wait till I can talk properly."

"Perhaps so," Obi-Wan laughed then tapped her hand. "Wash your face – the nearer the _jula_ oil gets to your olfactory passages, the better it'll work."

"Have you always been such a fusser?" Padmé asked, burying her face in the washcloth. He was right, though – she _was_ starting to clear up a little.

Soft lips touched her forehead. "You're not the first person to accuse me of that," Obi-Wan replied. "I hovered around Qui-Gon for weeks after he was … injured at Theed." She heard him sigh then chuckle. "He was very forbearing at first but after about three weeks; he forcibly ejected me from the apartment and told me to do something, _anything_, other than fuss."

Padmé tried to picture the big patient Jedi Master losing his temper with Obi-Wan and found that she couldn't. He didn't seem to have that much temper in him. Then she recalled how sharp he'd been with Jar Jar Binks when they'd stayed with Anakin and Shmi Skywalker, and she could see it a little more readily. The older Jedi really _had_ changed a lot since those tumultuous days.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Melarina listened to the newscast, her hand to her mouth, as the presenter gave the news that Mandalore had seceded from the Republic – had joined the Confederacy of Independent Systems. On a day-to-day level, it had little impact on her, but the edict that all Republic representatives had 72 hours to leave Mandalore before being forcibly deported shook her. She would never be able to see Obi again – would never have the money to be able to reach Coruscant.

"Oh, Gods …," she muttered, tears springing to her eyes. What in the name of the Great Bird of the Galaxy was going on? Systems leaving the Republic in droves, more and more wars, higher taxes, a growing pro-human bias … The galaxy was spiraling into darkness with only the relatively small numbers of the Jedi Order to fight against it.

Swiping a hand across her eyes, she switched the newscast off then made her way to the fresher, hearing Obi-Wan laugh. "I love you, Padmé," he said tenderly.

"I love you too, Obi," Melarina heard Padmé reply, and a small smile broke out onto her face. Well, at least _something_ good had happened to Obi-Wan.

She knocked on the door. "May I come in?" she asked. "There's something you need to know."

"All right," Obi-Wan replied.

Melarina opened the door as Obi-Wan wrapped Padmé in a thick robe before sitting down and cuddling her into him. "You look awfully serious," he said. "That's not like you."

"What I have to say _is_ awfully serious," Melarina said. "Oh, Gods …" She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. "Obi; Mandalore has seceded from the Republic – has joined the Confederacy."

Obi-Wan nodded grimly. "I'm not surprised," he said. "Mandalore's ties to the Republic have always been looser than most. What does this mean for you?"

"In most respects, not much," Melarina admitted. "I'll get up, take Javen to the minder, go to work, earn my money, and come home, the same as usual. My taxes will just go to someone else rather than Coruscant. But … Obi; Senator Garna has given all Republic representatives just 72 hours to leave. You're Coruscanti _and_ a Jedi – and Padmé is the Chommell Senator." She took a deep breath. "The government has very little interest in this part of Mandalore – you can stay here as long as you need."

"No," Padmé and Obi-Wan said together. Padmé smiled slightly. "Great minds, Obi?" she asked. "We know how these secessions work," she added. "The CIS Senators don't hesitate to threaten families, including children, until all Republic influences are removed."

"Come with us," Obi-Wan said. "I only met you seven years ago – I don't want to lose you again. Neither Padmé nor I are rich, but we have enough to take you and Javen to Coruscant with us."

"And you can stay with me," Padmé added. "We're taking a bit of a circuitous route back to Coruscant, but we should get there in about four weeks."

Melarina sighed. "I don't want to lose you either, Obi," she said. She was in the habit of making even life-changing decisions quickly – for good or for ill. "I'll come with you," she declared. She sighed again – she would miss her little house, the quiet life she had with Javen, but she would miss Obi-Wan far more.

"Good," Obi-Wan said. "We have … 72 hours you said?" Melarina nodded. "That gives us enough time to get to my next contact. He'll get us off world safely and will turn a blind eye to two extra people." He slipped his free arm around Melarina and hugged her closely. "I know it doesn't seem that way right now, but everything _will_ be all right," he added.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

**Note: **Snapshots from various planets.

**Two days later:**

Melarina rubbed at her neck, her fingers catching in her hair, as she watched Obi-Wan barter with a Rodian for some extra space in the cargo hold of the freighter that they currently occupied. The Rodian was first mate of this freighter, which belonged to yet another smuggler friend of Obi-Wan's. This smuggler didn't deal with goods but with refugees, asylum-seekers, the persecuted, and was probably more sought after by the various authorities simply because of the lack of kick-backs.

Obi finished off saying something completely throat-twisting and then bowed his head to the Rodian. "Thank you," he said.

"Welcome," the green-skinned Rodian replied then waved his hand to Padmé and Melarina. "A cargo hold is no place for females, but unfortunately, we have nothing better," he said, digging into one of his pockets and producing a white-wrapped bar of confectionery. "Is the youngling allowed sweets?" he asked Obi-Wan.

Rodian culture was patriarchal, with males tending to have several wives and multiple offspring. Their females were treasured, protected, placed on pedestals almost but were rarely seen outside of the house. However, inside the house their word was law, with the male gladly leaving such things to his wives.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and glanced over at Melarina, and the Rodian laughed. "Forgive me," he said. "I sometimes forget that other cultures aren't locked into gender roles." He came over to Melarina and repeated his question.

"A little," Melarina said, "but not before his noonmeal."

"Sensible," the Rodian said. "Humans have less tolerance for processed sugar than Rodians – I will leave this with you. You can use it to buy his good behavior."

Melarina laughed for the first time in two days. "It would take more than this, but thank you anyway," she said, putting the confectionery into her bag. A small blur streaked past at that point and Melarina grabbed at it. "Javen; slow down," she chastised. "What have I said to you about running in strange places?"

The youngling pouted slightly. "Not to do it," he admitted reluctantly then wrapped his arms around his mother's neck. "I love you, Mommy," he added charmingly.

Padmé rolled her eyes and Melarina agreed – the boy's attempt at wriggling out of trouble was blatantly obvious. "I love you too, Javen," she replied, "but still … no running around on this ship, all right?"

The pout became more pronounced. "Kimimela beated me," he said. "She's fast."

Another blur streaked into the room at this point and giggled, pointed at Javen. "I beated you!" she said.

This had to be the mysterious Kimimela that had captured Javen's three-year-old heart. From what Obi-Wan had told her, the little girl had been rescued from a mining colony a few months earlier by an unidentified Jedi. Born blind and orphaned shortly after her birth, she'd been neglected by her people, who seemed to see her as a waste of resources. Yet a session in the bacta tank had easily healed the cataracts that had caused her blindness. It was shocking to Melarina that in this day and age a people could be so poor that they didn't have bacta treatments.

Kimimela was small, with light brown curls and huge blue eyes, and Javen seemed ready to drop to his knees and worship her. "Wanna get a pallie?" she asked.

"Mommy?"

Javen batted his eyelashes at Melarina and she sighed. "Just the one," she agreed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Three days later:**

"So … this is Tatooine," Melarina said, looking around the suns-bleached planet.

Padmé nodded her head and then drew up the hood of her cloak, partly in defense against the suns and partly to hide her face. "I hope you put on your sun-repellant," she commented. Like Obi-Wan, Melarina and Javen were very fair-skinned and the brutal suns of this planet would wreak havoc on their skin. "That includes you, Obi," she added.

"Yes, mother." Obi-Wan grinned and showed her the large tube of repellant.

Padmé slapped gently at him. "Horrible male," she responded. She followed Obi-Wan through the familiar looking market of Mos Espa – nothing had changed in the ten years since she'd been here.

Except that this time there would be no little blue-eyed boy asking if she were an angel. She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. She'd become very fond of the snub-nosed youngling in the short time she'd spent here and had been very upset when he'd been executed by that miserable fly. At least Watto got what he deserved, she reflected. She didn't usually believe in an eye for an eye, but the harsh life here on Tatooine bred harsh punishment.

"Four ruby bliels, please," Obi-Wan said now to the old lady minding a stand.

He handed her some money and she stared at it. "And what the kriff is this?" she asked. "No Republic dataries here – ain't no good to me."

"You take Mandalorian currency?" Melarina asked.

The old lady nodded. "_That's_ something I can use," she said as Melarina handed over the money. The surprisingly sharp old eyes narrowed in on Obi-Wan. "I wouldn't stay too long if I were you," she added. "I keep my ear to the ground and there's plenty of scum on this planet that would like to hand you and the Senator over to the Seps."

"Thank you," Padmé said, for more than the ruby bliels. "But why …?"

"I haven't forgotten you," the old lady said. "Any friend of Anakin Skywalker's is worth helping." She smiled. "Such a sweet, giving boy he was. All he wanted was to help people." Then she scowled. "If Shmi hadn'ta killed that wretched Toydarian, I woulda done it m'self."

"I believe you," Padmé said – the seemingly frail old lady had looked quite fierce all of a sudden.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Coruscant:**

"Started these clone wars have," Yoda pronounced grimly. He, Mace Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi and many other Jedi had returned recently from Geonosis to rescue Adi Gallia and her Padawan from certain death at the hands of Count Dooku and the Separatists. Yoda had shown up at the last minute on a massive gunship with thousands of the clone warriors produced by the Kaminoans and they'd managed to retrieve Adi Gallia and her Padawan.

But the loss of life had been devastating – for both sides. And now the Jedi were faced with the prospect of war. They had not had to fight a war on such a scale since the dark days of the Sith a thousand years earlier.

The smallest Jedi sighed heavily, his years seeming to weigh greatly on him, and then turned his attention back to the assembled Jedi Masters. "Sensed this day coming I have but predicted Dooku's actions I could not have. Senseless is self-recrimination – our energies to this war we must dedicate." He gave another sigh then seemed to shake himself out of it. He turned to Qui-Gon and smiled slightly.

Qui-Gon returned the smile as best he could, but his thoughts were whirling. He had been far closer to Tyln Dooku than any of the other Jedi – how could he not have seen this? Yoda scowled at him and Qui-Gon blushed. "I'm sorry, Master – self-recrimination is an indulgence and one that none of us has time for."

"Perfect beings we are not," Yoda said gravely, nodding to his former Padawan. "Master Jinn; come to a decision the Council has," he added, changing the subject in an abrupt fashion. "Direct you to join us we do."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. After all the times he'd rebelled against the Council he never would have thought there'd be a place for him on it. During his younger years there'd been times he'd expected to be expelled from the Order, and now he was to take a place with its highest authority.

"So shocked you should not be," Yoda said. "Set in our ways we have become. Make us think differently you do – keep us in the moment. Strong and powerful you have always been, but learned self-control you finally have. Very welcome you are amongst us."

"Well …" Qui-Gon tugged his robes straight in a nervous gesture he wasn't conscious of and then took the seat next to his old friend, Mace Windu. "I'm honored, Masters."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Two days later:**

Obi-Wan switched off the newscast with a troubled frown. War? The Jedi were at war and he couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept. The Jedi Order acted as preservers of the peace, not soldiers, yet it seemed that they would have to become soldiers.

A pair of slim arms came around his waist from behind and lips touched the back of his neck. "How are you doing with this?" Padmé asked softly.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," Obi-Wan replied, turning in Padmé's embrace and smiling sadly. "What about you?"

Padmé shrugged. "It seems awfully … convenient that all those thousands of clones were available while I wasn't around to protest the Military Creation Act," she said. "There's something else at work here – the clones, the Seps, the assassinations …"

Obi-Wan nodded his head, sharing her cynicism. Padmé was completely Force null but it was obvious that darkness was creeping into the galaxy. "The Chancellor has requested that all Jedi return to Coruscant," he said. "He wants to discuss the future."

"Requested." Padmé snorted inelegantly. "That man has too much power as it is. Did you know some of the Senators wanted to grant him emergency powers? Thankfully, Bail, Mon Mothma and Representative Antilles were able to talk them out of it."

"You wouldn't have approved." It wasn't a question – Obi-Wan didn't trust the Chancellor and he was beginning to understand that Padmé didn't either. She'd never been so open about her distrust of her former advisor, and Obi-Wan thought that that was likely due to their growing bond.

"I wish I could," Padmé said sadly. "He was one of my most trusted advisors when I was Queen, but he seems to want to control everything. Look at the latest amendments he's trying to get ratified – direct responsibility over the Jedi." She snorted again. "You need to be independent – you can't be beholden to any one man. The Republic may have its problems, may be unwieldy and top-heavy, but it's better than the alternative – a dictatorship."

She sighed again and tightened her arms around Obi-Wan. "Well, I'm depressed now, thank you very much."

"Any time." Obi-Wan smiled and kissed the top of her head.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Three days later:**

They got off the freighter and looked around the massive space city known as 'Cloud City'. In the Bespin system, it was one of the truly independent colonies – neither CIS nor Republic – and had so far managed to maintain its neutrality. The administrator welcomed them, introducing his young son, Lando, who already showed some of his father's flamboyant style.

"Welcome, dear ladies," the darkly handsome young lad said, bending to kiss both Padmé's and Melarina's hands in a gesture reminiscent of his flirtatious father. Then he grinned up at his father and finally looked his age. "Can I go play now? I've done my chores and Karine and Zel are waiting for me."

"_All_ your chores?" Kayden Calrissian replied skeptically.

"Yes, sir," Lando replied patiently. "Even my clothes are in the auto fresher."

"Then you can go," his father told him. The boy wasn't about to wait for his father to change his mind – with a whoop and a bright grin at the ladies, he was gone.

Melarina smiled, wondering if that was what Javen would be like five or six years hence. He showed all the signs of being just as charming as Corran, although she hoped that his principles would be stronger.

Melarina realized that Obi-Wan and Padmé had got quite far ahead – she lengthened her stride and caught up with them, smiling at Mr. Calrissian. He really was charming and was incredibly handsome. Even more so than Corran. That curly dark hair and the rakish-looking mustache along with the snapping black eyes made her thoughts go straight to the silks, and she looked away, feeling vaguely guilty.

She owed Corran nothing. He hadn't even been able to give her fidelity, and they were divorced now. He was Wampa wiggling his way through the lower strata of Mandalore society and she was a free woman. She smiled again at Kayden when he took her elbow in a gallant fashion. "Call me Melarina," she invited softly. It had been many months since she'd had a good roll in the silks, and Kayden Calrissian looked like he was well equipped to fulfill that need.

"Melarina." Kayden rolled the syllables of her name, his musical accent making her name sound exotic. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady."

Melarina would have blushed, but she didn't think she remembered how. "Thank you," she replied then sighed when she saw Obi-Wan staring at them. Just what she needed – big brother running interference. She sent a pleading glance over to Padmé, who provided an ample distraction by tucking her hand into Obi-Wan's and bearing him away.

She liked Padmé so much – the older girl would make a wonderful sister in law, Melarina decided now. Maybe there were nieces and nephews in her future, after all. "They'd make beautiful babies," she murmured to herself.

She failed to realize that the little ears near her could hear everything.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

"What was that for?" Obi-Wan asked as Padmé ushered him into their assigned quarters.

The luxury was nearly on a par with that of the palace at Theed and Padmé was momentarily stunned into silence. Then she cleared her throat and snapped out of it. "Melarina's a big girl now," she said. "She doesn't need you acting like an overprotective big brother."

Obi-Wan sighed. "She's been hurt so much by Corran – I'd hate to see her go through that again," he said. "She's very vulnerable right now, and while I like Kayden, I don't believe he's any good for Melarina."

"It seems to me that she's pursuing him, not the other way round," Padmé pointed out. "After the stress of the last few days, perhaps she needs to burn a hole in the silks."

Obi-Wan's face went white and his eyes widened. "That's more than I wanted to know," he said. "Evil woman."

Padmé smiled. "Thank you," she replied. She placed her hands on his hips and brought him flush against her then kissed him gently, feeling the now familiar tendrils of arousal working their way through her system.

It was amazing how easily they had been able to make the transition from friends to lovers, although they had yet to complete the physical act. Her mother had once said, "If possible, marry your best friend". And while Padmé knew she wasn't ready for marriage, falling in love with her best friend was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

His lips began to move against hers, deepening the kiss, and the heat in her belly increased when his hands slid up inside her tunic, exploring the skin of her back and waist, brushing up to the sides of her breasts. "May I?" he asked, leaning back slightly and tugging at the tunic.

Padmé nodded mutely and began unbuttoning the tunic, feeling oddly shy. He'd seen her nude that day she'd declared her love for him, although she _had_ soon been partially submerged in the _jula_ oil bath. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but she was slightly nervous. She knew that she would be giving herself to Obi-Wan soon, and there was that fear of the unknown. Obi-Wan was tender and gentle – she trusted him implicitly, but still …

Impatient with her meanderings, she finished unbuttoning her tunic and slipped it off her shoulders, baring her torso to the handsome man in front of her. "Beautiful," he said then dropped his head and began to kiss his way down her throat, heading for her breasts.

And just as he was about to get his mouth on a nipple, there was a thumping on the door. "Unka Obi!" Javen shouted.

Obi-Wan sighed and lifted his head up. "Yes, Javen?" he called back.

"Are you an' Padmé making babies?"

She'd never seen Obi-Wan's eyes grow so big. His face paled and he swallowed rapidly several times. "I … ah … What _has_ Melarina been saying to him?" he murmured, sounding appalled.

Unable to help herself, Padmé started laughing, the mood well and truly broken. She retrieved her tunic and fastened it while Obi-Wan opened the door to his nephew to set him straight.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Coruscant:**

Chancellor Palpatine projected an air of solemnity as he discussed the recent events on Geonosis with Masters Yoda and Windu. Inside he was dancing with glee. All his plans were finally coming to fruition, but his search for a good Right Hand continued. He'd had high hopes for Obi-Wan Kenobi – the young Jedi interested him very much, especially after he'd killed Maul on Naboo – but the Knight was as firmly entrenched in the Light as Palpatine was in the Dark.

A pity, really. He could have used someone with Obi-Wan's steadiness, strength and keen wisdom. Although not the 'Chosen One' legendary to both Sith and Jedi Orders, Kenobi was powerful and growing only more powerful as he became older.

Palpatine nodded and said all the right things, and then expressed his sorrow for the lives lost on Geonosis. "This galaxy is falling into darkness," he said. "We've all been clouded by it. Now we must work together to ensure that the Republic prevails. While I have no wish to send such loyal men and women as yourselves into battle, war demands sacrifices of all of us."

"Yes," Yoda agreed. "Soldiers we are not, but do our duty we will. No wish have we to see this galaxy spiral into darkness."

"On that we are agreed," Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn said – he had hitherto been silent as befitting the newest member of the Jedi Council. Kenobi's former Master was even more interesting, Palpatine thought, studying the large Knight. He hovered closer to the darkness than Kenobi and so many of the Jedi, even more so than Windu, yet he didn't seem to fear that edge within him.

He'd been the one to discover his old friend's turn to the Dark Side, and while Palpatine had been unpleasantly surprised at how quickly Tyranus had been unmasked, he had to admit to respect at Jinn's detective skills. Such a big man should have stood out anywhere, yet he had honed the art of stealth to a high degree. A curse on the man – he would make such a good Sith. Palpatine wondered whether he'd made a mistake in focusing on the powerful young Kenobi when his equally powerful, and slightly darker, Master was worthy of such attention.

In terms of Force ability, they were probably equal, although specializing in differing aspects of the Force. But Palpatine viewed the typical Jedi ways with a great deal of disdain – Jinn's long-standing habit of going against the grain interested him very much. He wasn't as rigid and rule-bound as his fellow Jedi Masters, and the Council finally seemed to have realized the benefit of admitting someone that thought differently to their presence.

"Chancellor?"

Palpatine brought himself back to the present when he realized that Mace Windu had said something. "I do apologize, Master Windu," he said. "I fear I'm quite distracted by this dreadful turn of events. What were you saying?"

This time he made an effort and managed not to tune out the droning of the Korun Master. But in the back of his mind, he was making plans for getting rid of Tyranus and replacing him with either Kenobi or Jinn. Both would be excellent but he would happily settle for either one of them.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Cloud City:**

Covered in sweat and thoroughly exhausted, Melarina rolled off of Kayden, shivering as the cool air hit her overheated body. "Mmm," she sighed, snuggling into his equally nude body. "After the time I've had lately, I needed that. Thank you."

Kayden grinned. "You're more than welcome," he said. "Didn't I tell you there was an advantage to being an older male?"

Stamina and experience … a powerful combination. Melarina had thought Corran was good in the silks, but Kayden's extra decade of life and his irresistible good looks had given him great experience. "You don't need to be quite so smug," she complained. Then she smiled. "I'm not looking for anything serious – I've only recently divorced – but if you're ever on Coruscant, look me up."

"I'll do that," Kayden said. "I'm not one to be serious either, but you're something very special." Then he grinned rakishly, stepping on what threatened to be a tender moment. "And being fifteen years my junior is certainly good for my ego!"

"As if your ego weren't big enough already, you conceited nerf-herder." Melarina laughed then got up and began to dress once more. "Anyway, I'm hungry and I'm sure Javen is absolutely torturing my brother, so I'd better go."

Seeing him lying there, dark eyes sleepy, curly hair tousled, slim firm body unabashedly nude, Melarina was sorely tempted to maul him again. But she turned away from temptation and headed out of his quarters. To squeal when she collided with her older brother, who wore a disapproving frown.

"Don't," she said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "I'm feeling good for the first time in two weeks – don't spoil it for me."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm trying to remember that you're all grown up," he said. "But that's not why I wanted to speak to you. Have you been talking to Javen about me and Padmé?"

"No," Melarina said. "He's only a little boy, Obi – why would he even care?"

"Well, he banged on my door about five minutes ago, screaming 'Are you and Padmé making babies?'."

That was a little strange, but Melarina couldn't understand why Obi-Wan was pink. Until he added, "Padmé was with me at the time."

Unable to help herself, Melarina snorted with laughter. "You can always rely on Javen to say the most inappropriate thing at the most inappropriate time!" she said.

She received a dry stare in return. "So … where did he get the idea that Padmé and I were making babies?" he persisted.

"I've no i…" Melarina trailed off. "Oh, dear. I may have muttered something about how you two would make beautiful babies. It never even occurred to me that he was listening."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, the pink fading. "It might be time for you to have a talk with him. I'm not sure how much he'll understand, but he's asking questions."

"Oh, kriff. I'd hoped to avoid this for a couple of years," Melarina said. "That's the price of having a precocious child, I suppose."

"Blood will tell," Obi-Wan teased, wrapping an arm around Melarina's neck and scrubbing at her head with his knuckles.

Melarina squealed and pulled away. "Beast!" she cried playfully, marveling at how close she and Obi-Wan had become over the last seven years. It was as if they'd spent their whole lives together. Sharing blood was no guarantee that they would love or even like each other – but they loved each other very much.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The next chapter takes place more than two months later (I don't have any more planet-hopping stories in me). Padmé and Obi-Wan return to Coruscant with Javen and Melarina, who are living with Padmé. Obi-Wan is 'out there' occupied with the Clone Wars.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

**Ten weeks later:**

Obi-Wan stepped off the transport, shaking the hand of Commander Cody, one of the higher-ranked clone troopers. "Thank you for everything," he said.

"You're welcome, sir," Cody responded. Then he smiled. "Don't look now, sir, but a beyond beautiful woman is staring at us."

Obi-Wan chuckled. Clones they might be, but Cody certainly had his own personality. Perhaps because he was one of the first and the cloning process hadn't quite been refined. He was an excellent soldier, with Fett's sharp reflexes and instincts but with a discipline lacking in the now deceased bounty hunter. "She's looking at _me_," he replied crushingly. "That's Padmé," he added. "Would you like to meet her?"

Cody – although exhausted from the weeks of terrifying battle punctuated by moments of excruciating boredom – snapped into military readiness. "Yes, sir," he nearly barked.

Obi-Wan signed. "Relax, soldier; before you sprain your spine," he said. "You're not on duty now."

"Yes, sir," Cody replied, relaxing only marginally.

Padmé came over to them and chuckled. "Obi … have you been a beast to this poor man?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly.

Obi-Wan grimaced at her. "I'm a very fair and caring commanding officer," he told her loftily. "Commander …?"

"Very fair and caring," Cody intoned dutifully, his brown eyes dancing beneath his mop of dark hair.

Obi-Wan turned the grimace on his second in command. "Oh, be gone," he said. "I'm sure Rana will be glad to see you again."

Cody smiled at that – he'd met the young woman a month earlier and seemed quite smitten with her. So much for clones having no personality … "Thank you, sir," he said. "I'll pass on your regards," he added. Then he nodded to Padmé. "Senator," he offered politely and then was gone.

"A man of few words," Padmé opined, her arms still around Obi-Wan's waist.

"Indeed, but he's a good man and a good officer," Obi-Wan replied. He cupped her beautiful face with his hands and brought her lips up to meet his in a sweet kiss. "I've missed you," he said.

"Me too," Padmé replied softly. She leaned backward in his embrace and examined him. "You look exhausted," she added. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," Obi-Wan confirmed. They weren't even three months into this war, and the loss of life was already staggering. So many had died – so many at his hands. He knew that the cause was just, but every time he closed his eyes he could hear their screams as they died. Each and every one of them.

"Well, we have a couple of days before you have to report back to the Council and the Chancellor," Padmé said. "Let's go back to my place and you can unwind properly there." She smiled up at him. "I've been learning a wonderful massage that should unknot those muscles of yours."

She squeezed where his neck and shoulder joined and Obi-Wan flinched, taken by surprise. He heaved a sigh, already feeling peace come over him in the presence of the woman he loved. "That sounds good," he said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Feeling much better for the time spent with Padmé – and that massage had been very good too – Obi-Wan left 500 Republica and headed into town. A cup of Kila's delicious caf and one of Dex's monstrous bantha burgers were calling out to him and he hailed a passing swoop transport.

"Coco Town," he said as he boarded.

"Not goin' there," the pilot grumbled. "Get the next one – due in ten minutes."

"Let 'im on, for kriff's sake!" one of the passengers squeaked. "He's got a lightsaber, poodoo-brain!"

Obi-Wan saw no need to intimidate the pilot, who was merely doing her job. "Ten minutes?" he said. "I'll wait then. Thank you." And he got off the transport and stepped backward into someone. "Oh, Force, I'm sorry!" He turned and met the striking violet eyes and mass of curly hair of Dex's waitress, Kila.

"Well, we meet again, _Master_ Kenobi," the younger woman said, sounding amused. "How have you been?"

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, sidestepping her question. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Kila snorted. "Please," she said. "I'm hardly a delicate little flower – you probably got the worst of the impact."

Obi-Wan looked at her. She was plump and pretty, with her fair skin, round hips and full breasts. She probably _was_ carrying excess weight, but was hardly as enormous as she seemed to think. He thought it best however to change the subject – a discussion of body perception did _not_ appeal to him. "I'm just heading to Dex's – I was wanting a cup of your caf."

"Sorry," Kila replied, hugging her basket to her. "I'm off for the next two days – Dex booted me out and told me to go and enjoy myself." She smiled fondly. "He's such a big softy."

Big softy. Not a description Obi-Wan would ever have thought would describe Dexter Jettster. "Oh," he said. "Well, I don't want to intrude on your time off," he added.

"You're not intruding," Kila said. "Come back to the diner with me and I'll make you some caf – it looks like you need it."

Obi-Wan pushed his hand through his hair, wondering how Padmé would feel about him spending time with an attractive woman. He wasn't attracted in the least to Kila and he knew that Padmé trusted him, but still …

Kila went red. "I'm not trying to flirt with you," she said. "It just looks like you need someone to talk to – someone not affected by this war you're fighting – and I've always been a good listener."

Obi-Wan felt instantly remorseful when he saw Kila's scarlet cheeks and wide strained eyes. Something in her past had made her afraid of men, yet she was making an effort to reach out to him. "In that case, I accept – thank you," he said. "There should be a swoop due in a few minutes."

The blush cleared from Kila's face and she smiled. "Not so fast, Jedi – you have to earn your caf!" She handed him the large basket she'd been carrying. "Time for you to play eeopie."

"I'm at your command, milady," he said, taking the empty basket and wondering just what an eeopie was – presumably some kind of beast of burden.

"Obnoxious male," Kila said to the air with a roll of her eyes.

And Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you."

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**Several hours later:**

"Hey, Obi-Wan; welcome back!" Dex yelled above the chatter of the waitresses and the diner's patrons. "You on leave?" he added, approaching them and patting Kila's shoulder in a fatherly fashion.

"Yes; but only for a couple of weeks," Obi-Wan replied, aware of the patron's stares of curiosity at him and Kila … and her fierce blush. "I met Kila in town and she gave in to my pleas for her caf."

The giant spacer laughed. "Good on ya, Sweetness – you got another one hooked!" Then he scowled. "I thought I told ya to get outta here for the day, though?"

The young woman shrugged, her blush lightening only slightly. "I did everything I needed to do and it's a bit hard to get away from here when I only live a couple of floors above."

"Uh," Dex grunted. "Okay; you can stay, but you're gonna sit in that booth and let someone wait on you for a change."

Kila smiled – a dazzling smile that crinkled her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. "If you think I'm going to say no to that, you're dafter than I already thought," she declared. Then she squealed when Dex's hand impacted sharply on her rear end. "Horrible creature," she grumbled, sitting down hurriedly in a booth. "I'd sit down if I were you, Master Kenobi," she advised. "Dex is kriffing quick with those big slabs of nerf steak he calls hands."

Obi-Wan chuckled and agreed, heaving seen the Besalisk's fists in actions more than once, and then took his own seat opposite Kila. For someone so shy and timid, she certainly had no problems standing up to the oft-fearsome Dex. She'd evidently touched a kernel of tenderness inside of him that no-one had ever been known to reach.

"Dex; do you still have some of the caf I made up this morning?" the young woman asked, pushing one of her curls behind her ear. Then she fiddled with her neckline in a gesture that Obi-Wan would soon come to associate with nervousness or shyness.

"For you, Sweetness; yeah," the big Besalisk said then put a meaty hand on Kila's shoulder as she got up, pushing her back down onto the seat. "It's your day off, woman. You ain't waitin' on no-one – and especially not some male."

"Some male?" Kila echoed. "This is a _Jedi_, don't you know?" she teased, effecting a snooty accent and putting her nose up in the air.

"Oh, please; no special treatment for me," Obi-Wan chimed in. "I prefer to mix with the ordinary folk." He drooped his eyelid in a lazy wink at Dex.

Kila sighed and then giggled – a delightfully free sound from the timid woman. "I'd never realized Jedi Masters were brats," she commented.

"Padmé called me a brat, too," Obi-Wan told her with a small grin. "And I'd just found my first gray hair that morning."

"Is that your wife?" Kila asked interestedly.

"No," Obi-Wan replied.

"But you'd like her to be."

Force; the woman was blunt. But she was right, Obi-Wan admitted to himself. However, it was far too soon in their fledgling relationship for talk of bonding. Padmé simply wasn't ready for marriage, and he had no intention of pushing her.

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Padmé exited the Senatorial sessions, disgusted with the shouting matches that had become the norm for a Senate session these days. Although she had no Separatist leanings herself, she was beginning to understand the frustration that the genuine Separatists felt.

She rubbed at her temples with her fingertips and debated the merits of a glass of moonwine. But she had no-one with whom to share it. Melarina was currently on Bespin being 'entertained' by Kayden Calrissian, and Padmé really didn't have any close female friends on Coruscant.

_Good grief; this is pathetic_, she mused silently as she made her way down the corridors, the shouts of her fellow Senators echoing in her wake. After several minutes she stepped into a lift – ah, sweet silence – and she rode swiftly down to the street level. She smiled at Dormé, who was waiting with her swoop, and got in. "Don't ask," she grumbled.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dormé replied with a small grin. Padmé's attendants had all been chosen because of their small build and at least superficial resemblance to Padmé. Dormé also seemed to have Padmé's ready wit and Padmé would have liked to have her as a friend. However, Dormé was very conscious of their differences in station, and was a firm believer in keeping the 'proper' distance between them. She started the engine and lifted off smoothly. "Back to 500 Republica, milady?"

"Yes, please," Padmé said with a sigh, wishing she was back on Naboo. Even with the ongoing threat of the assassin, she'd enjoyed much of that time, strengthening her friendship with Obi-Wan and letting the love develop. Even though she hadn't realized that at the time.

Getting out of the swoop mere minutes later, she shook her head at how obtuse she had been – it had been so obvious to everyone else. Mali and Rélan had seen it, so had Sola, her mother and father, and Melarina. Even Master Jinn had simply smiled knowingly when she and Obi-Wan had told him six weeks ago that they had decided to pursue a relationship.

Speaking of whom … "Good afternoon, Master Jinn," she said to the big Jedi as he walked out of a nearby diner.

"Good afternoon, Senator," he replied politely. He also looked tired, and Padmé wondered if he'd seen direct combat too. It wasn't common for members of the Council to serve on the frontlines but, then again, Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't your typical Jedi. If there even _was_ such a thing as a 'typical Jedi'. "I hope everything is all right."

Padmé frowned. "The Senate session was a … lively one today," she said.

A rarely seen imp of mischief made its way into the older man's eyes. "Is that Senatorial language for 'loud and chaotic'?"

Padmé laughed. "Impudent creature," she chastised mildly. "You're right, though." She sighed heavily. "Oh well, I'll keep battling on – I want my voice to be heard."

"Well, good," Qui-Gon said. "In these dark times, we need all the good people we can get," he added. He bowed slightly to her. "Anyway; I won't keep you any further. I've invited Obi-Wan to dinner tonight, though – would you like to join us?"

Padmé wondered if there would be a fourth – Obi-Wan had filled her in on his former Master's success with the female populace. He had never been short of company should he want it. "That sounds good," she said, realizing that she'd like to get to know the big enigmatic Knight a little better. He was Obi-Wan's friend and the closest thing he would ever have to a father since his own father was no longer alive. "Can I bring anything?"

The mischievous grin deepened. "Store bought?" he asked.

_Beast._ "Has Obi-Wan been telling tales?" she complained, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She was a Senator and he a Jedi Master – face-pulling seemed rather undignified behavior around a man of his years and stature.

And now Qui-Gon wore an innocent boyish look that a 70-year-old male really shouldn't have been able to manage. "Of course not!" he denied lightly then smiled. "I shouldn't tease you – I'm sorry," he added.

"No; you're not," Padmé said. "But I'll bring along something store bought for tonight – although whether you deserve _anything_ after that crack remains to be seen."

Qui-Gon laughed and Padmé gave in and returned the laugh. She'd never heard him laugh before but she liked it. "Well, if I carry out the proper penitence, can I be assured of something spicy?"

"Hmmm." Padmé put her finger to her lips as if debating as Obi-Wan came over to them. "Obi?"

"Master; are you tormenting the woman I love?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Well, in your absence, who else can I torment?" Qui-Gon offered with another smile. He nodded at a passing Jedi. "Master Reeol; may I have a word?"

The white-crowned human nodded his head. "Of course, Qui-Gon," he said. "Walk with me."

Qui-Gon dipped his head to Padmé. "Seven o'clock tonight? See you then."

And he made good his escape. He had always been a survivor, Padmé knew, knowing when to attack and when to retreat. "Horrible male," she muttered then wrapped her arms round Obi-Wan's waist and kissed him soundly, tasting caf and something sweet. The man truly was a bottomless pit – they'd only eaten that morning. And not a light meal, either. "Now what have you been eating?" she exclaimed, partly in despair and partly in amusement. It was a wonder he wasn't the size of a bantha.

"Mandalorian Sweetcake," Obi-Wan replied with a small grin. "I headed over to Dex's for a bantha burger but was persuaded to have some Sweetcake as well."

"Oh yes; I'm sure you took a _lot_ of persuasion." Padmé rolled her eyes. "Was the lovely Kila dancing attendance on you today, your Jedi Knightness?" she teased.

Only the fact that they were still outside saved her from punishment – she merely received a dry stare in return. "Brat," he replied. "You know I'm not interested in Kila that way, but I think she could become a good friend."

"Well, that's good," Padmé said. "It'll do you good to have friends other than 'tiny little smart-mouthed Senators' and horrible Jedi Masters."

Obi-Wan smiled at that and slipped his arm around her shoulders as they headed into the massive residence of 500 Republica. "Have you heard from Melarina?"

"She got to Bespin with no problem," Padmé replied. "Javen's having the time of his life with Lando and the other children, and Melarina's having the time of _her_ life with Kayden." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

And Obi-Wan went properly pink. "Evil little woman," he pronounced.

"Thank you," Padmé replied, putting her arm about his waist and pinching his side, causing him to start. After the horrible afternoon she'd spent in the Senate, this teasing and laughter were just what she needed.

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**That evening:**

Qui-Gon looked up from his food preparations with a mild despair when the doorbell chimed. He was quite a good cook in many respects, but pastries and sweets had always been beyond him. Yet another batch of Sweetcake had gone straight into the trash compactor, and he gave up. Obi-Wan would have to find some other way of indulging his notorious sweet tooth.

He turned the soup onto simmer and made his way to the door, flinging it open. "Come in, Obi-Wan, Senator," he said.

"Padmé, please," the young Nubian woman said. "After the way you were teasing me this afternoon, I think you can call me by my name, Master Jinn."

"In that case, I'm Qui-Gon," Qui-Gon replied, a little uncertain how to act around a woman he was entertaining but not pursuing. It had been a long time since he'd sought such a friendship with a female. His relationships had either been formal – such as his relationship with Adi Gallia – or purely sexual. Yet he wanted to know better the woman that had won his former Padawan's heart.

"What burned?" Obi-Wan asked, sniffing the air curiously – the scrubbers were only just catching up to the fact that several pans of cake had been burned in the last two hours.

"Dessert," Qui-Gon admitted reluctantly, well aware of the justice of that after his teasing of Padmé earlier.

He was therefore completely unsurprised when the young woman began laughing helplessly, handing over a bottle of something called _kula_ berry juice. "Serves you right," she taunted.

"I'm sorry; I don't indulge in alcohol," Qui-Gon said.

"It's non-alcoholic, M … Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan told him. "I drank a lot of it while I was on Naboo and you know I rarely drink alcohol. It's perfectly fine."

"Fine?" Padmé banged him in the side with her elbow, causing him to yelp. "Damned with faint praise, Kenobi. _Kula_ berry juice is one of the best drinks in the Republic. And it comes from one of the best _planets_ in the Republic."

Obi-Wan pulled a face at her. "And you're not in the least bit biased."

Padmé returned the face. "Of course not," she denied loftily then turned to Qui-Gon and mouthed 'Yes I am', causing him to chuckle as he examined the bottle of juice.

"Shall I open it now?" he asked, intrigued by the layers of purple and red of the juice – almost like the geology charts he'd been forced to study as a youngling.

"Let it chill for around half an hour," Padmé advised. "It's better that way."

Obi-Wan took the bottle from Qui-Gon's hands and replaced it with a box filled with various sweet trifles. "I asked a friend of mine to make some sweets to bring for tonight."

"You cajoled," Padmé added.

"And she was very amenable after I explained that you didn't have much of a sweet tooth and so probably wouldn't have anything," Obi-Wan continued.

"After he begged and pleaded and made big eyes," Padmé put in.

"Pipe down over there," Obi-Wan commanded over Qui-Gon's snort of laughter. He never would have thought that the pair would be so entertaining. Obi-Wan had always been serious beyond his years, but it seemed that Padmé was bringing him out of his shell; helping him to discover his sense of fun.

Padmé rolled her eyes. "He wheedled," she said to the air. "It seems he's charmed some poor unsuspecting waitress at Dex's into cooking for him and making him caf."

"I was not talking to you, your Senatorial Shortness," Obi-Wan proclaimed, effecting a haughty sneer.

"Oh … well, pardon me, your Jedi Knightness. May this humble peon speak?" Padmé laughed, rolling her eyes again.

"No."

"Am I going to have to send you two to bed without supper?" Qui-Gon asked, and then regretted it when Padmé blew a kiss at Obi-Wan before waggling her eyebrows at Qui-Gon. He blushed, realizing how his perfectly innocent comment had been skewed, but turned to the stove and busied himself with the soup to hide his reaction. "Enough," he exclaimed. "I'd like to declare a moratorium on your argument – if it's even _worthy_ of the word 'argument'. Let's change the subject."

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"Agreed," Obi-Wan said. "The cooling unit is to your left, Padmé," he added.

"Thank you," Padmé replied sweetly and overly politely, heading for the cooling unit to deposit the bottle of juice. Then she went over to the stove and got up on tiptoes, trying to see over Qui-Gon's shoulder. "It smells good," she offered by way of an apology for her laughing at his dessert failure.

Qui-Gon turned and she scuttled backward slightly. He was so … _big_ that he just filled the small room. "Thank you," he said with a warm smile. "It's Chandril winter broth – I have some bread rolls keeping warm in the oven."

"Sounds good too," Padmé replied, her nose twitching as the rich smells made themselves known to her. And it was perfect for the cold spell that had crept in. Coruscant was climate controlled, so the cold spell wasn't unexpected, but Padmé had never enjoyed cold gray days like this one.

Qui-Gon handed her a small spoon. "Would you like to try some?"

"Mmm, yes, please," Padmé said. She was beginning to really like the older Jedi – not simply as Obi-Wan's mentor but as someone that could be a friend to her. She scooped up a spoonful of the broth, blew on it and then took a cautious sip. "Oh, _very_ good," she opined, quickly taking another spoonful before Qui-Gon could stop her.

"Where _are_ your manners, Miss Naberrie?" Obi-Wan chided, sounding shocked but his eyes were twinkling. "You can't be that hungry, surely?"

"Oh, so says the bottomless pit of Coruscant!" Padmé responded indignantly then gave in with a giggle when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon began to laugh.

"Give it up, my friend," Qui-Gon advised, clapping Obi-Wan's shoulder. "The Senator knows you far too well by now."


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Later that evening, Padmé wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan's waist as they paused outside her doorway. "I had a good time tonight," she said. "I really like Qui-Gon now." She went pink when Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "I mean; I always did but I didn't really feel like I knew him before. He's such a private man – I always felt a bit awkward around him."

"I'm sure the fact that you had a little girly crush on him once didn't help either," Obi-Wan teased.

Padmé could feel the pink change to scarlet and wished she'd never made that little confession to Obi-Wan earlier that day. "Are you ever going to let that go?" she grumbled.

"Mmm." Obi-Wan pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Probably not," he decided. "I had a good time too and I know Qui-Gon did. He needed this – this war is probably taking a greater toll on him than it is on me."

Padmé raised her eyebrows and considered this. "Qui-Gon hasn't spent two months out there, doing battle, being forced to kill other living beings," she said. "I'm sure it's distressing to him as a good man, as a good Jedi, but what you're going through is far worse."

"To some people, yes, it may seem worse," Obi-Wan replied. "But I know Qui-Gon far better than you and I know that this inaction is wearing on him. He's always been a man of impulse and deeds rather than contemplation. He takes no joy in battle but is far more suited to that part of a Jedi Knight's life than I am."

"Mmmm," Padmé murmured, unsure that she agreed. If Qui-Gon truly was as impulsive as Obi-Wan seemed to think, the older man really didn't belong out there – a rash being extremely powerful in the Force could cause catastrophe. She ran her hand over Obi-Wan's beard and stroked the grays that had emerged – this war had aged him before his time. But he still turned heads. Always had and always would. "You're getting scruffy, Master Kenobi," she added, raking her fingers through his thick hair.

"I know." Obi-Wan smiled and captured Padmé's hands.

"_And_ you grew the beard back," Padmé grumbled. She did like his beard but sometimes she felt like he hid behind it, like it was part of his Jedi Master persona.

"I'm in command of hundreds of troops," Obi-Wan said. "They won't respect a baby-faced commander." He caught her pouting bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger and tugged gently. "And reel in your bottom lip before you trip over it," he added teasingly. "I'll tell you what; on my next leave, I'll shave for you. All right?"

"A 'ight," Padmé got out. Instead of tugging her lip free, she gave in to impulse and darted her tongue out to lick his fingertip, detecting a hint of the sweetcake he'd had for dessert. Obi-Wan hissed out a breath then dipped his head and kissed her hotly and passionately, his lips burning against hers, his tongue dipping in and swirling around her tongue.

Padmé gave a helpless moan and slid her fingers back into his hair, hanging onto the thick locks as he ravaged her mouth. "Not … out here," she managed to say when his lips latched onto her neck. She wrenched free long enough to place her eye against the retinal scan and then she grabbed Obi-Wan's hand and pulled him into her apartment as the door opened.

She slowed down as they made their way to her bedroom, her sense of urgency dissipating. She loved and trusted him – it was time. And she was only a little nervous, which told her that this man was the right man. _Oh, stop thinking so much, Padmé!_, she scolded herself.

Obi-Wan undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them neatly onto a chair – even now that they were about to make love, he remained obsessively tidy. Padmé would have giggled at any other time – now she just drank in his slim firm body and handsome face. Once he was undressed she began disrobing also, hindered every now and then by the shaking of her hands. "Padmé," Obi-Wan said, grasping her hands. "Please stop if you're truly not ready."

"I am," Padmé said. "I'm not shaking from nerves … well, maybe a little bit. But I want this so much – I want to know you in every way."

Obi-Wan placed his hands on her upper arms then drew her to him, pressing their nude bodies together and swaying slowly to a tune only he could hear. "All right," he replied, "but you stop me if I do something you don't like."

Padmé couldn't imagine him doing something she wouldn't like – he didn't seem like he was into anything extreme – but she nodded her head to appease him. "I will," she told him, absorbing the feeling of his body against hers.

She put her arms around him then slid her hands down his back to rest on his rear, which was as delightfully taut and round as promised by his pants. She filled her hands with the globes and squeezed as they continued swaying.

And now Obi-Wan began humming something. There was something mysterious and haunting in the tune, yet it was soothing and romantic at the same time. She'd never realized that he had such an ear for music. "That's beautiful," she said. "What is it?"

"A Mon Calamari piece called Eguor Niluom," Obi-Wan replied. "Bant gave me the recording on my last nameday."

Padmé took one of his hands and led him over to the bed, eager to become one with this sweet, protective, sarcastic man. She settled herself comfortably on the bed then giggled when Obi-Wan dived in after her, causing the bed to bounce. How had he known she desperately needed to release the growing tension? "Idiot," she teased.

"Maybe, but I'm _your_ idiot," Obi-Wan replied, skimming one of his hands downward to close gently on a breast, thumb teasing the nipple into a taut peak.

"Mmm … and don't forget that," Padmé managed to say as his lips closed around the other nipple, tormenting it with teeth and tongue.

"Never," Obi-Wan murmured, switching nipples. "You taste so sweet …" He kissed his way down the flat plain of her belly then rested his cheek there. He looked up at her. "I love you so much," he told her.

Padmé stroked his thick hair. "I love you too," she said, "but this is a little one-sided."

Intuitive man that he was, Obi-Wan gave one final kiss to her stomach then rolled onto his back, his manhood standing proud and strong. Padmé tried not to look too much, but felt a small flicker of fear. She shrugged it off and set about anointing the torso she knew so well with licks, kisses and tender nips. She closed her teeth around one of his nipples and tugged slightly, pleased when Obi-Wan groaned. From what she'd read in the ancient Nubian lovers' guide that had found its way into her possession – the work of a sneaky older sister, perhaps – male nipples were rarely very sensitive.

Then she trailed kisses down his torso till she reached the juncture of his thighs. She put a quick kiss to the tip of his manhood then clasped it gently, running her fingers up and down its length, trying to imagine what it would feel like inside of her. Strange at first, no doubt, but she wanted him inside her very much.

Bestowing another kiss to his manhood – at the base this time – Padmé smiled up at Obi-Wan. Then she slithered back up his body, stretching out along his length in a similar position to when they'd traveled to Mandalore. But there was no blush this time for how they were plastered together – it felt entirely right.

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder and took a deep breath, enjoying his clean fresh scent. Obi-Wan didn't go in for lotions or balms, preferring a plain soap, but he smelled extraordinarily good to her. _Pheromones_, the analytical portion of her brain told her, but she shut up that part of her with a small frown.

She felt his hands stroke over her hair then down her back to rest on the swell of her buttocks. He pressed her gently against him and rocked slightly, raising the gentle ache to a fiercer, deeper, craving. Then she felt his fingers lift her chin up, and she looked down into his usually bright eyes, now dark with desire. She lowered her head and settled her lips onto his, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.

Then she slipped her legs to either side of his so that she now straddled his lean body, rubbing her most private part against his manhood. After several attempts, she felt him slip inside her and let out a gasp at the foreign sensation. His member filled her snugly, her untried walls protesting the intrusion. Suddenly he came to a stop but she pushed on then cried out in pain. Her active life meant that there was no physical barrier protecting her virginity but … it hurt. So much.

Obi-Wan's hands rested on her hips and he lifted her gently off of him. "I asked you to stop me …," he said reproachfully. "You said you'd stop me if you didn't like what I was doing."

Her body protesting his sudden withdrawal, Padmé gaped at him. "What … what made you … think I didn't like it?"

He shoved his hands through his hair. "I've never thought you the type that enjoys pain, Padmé," he said wearily. "You never have to pretend with me."

"But I _did_ like it! I just …" Padmé sighed and grabbed one of his hands. "I hadn't expected it to hurt. I'd always thought that was a myth, but it wasn't." Taking a breath, she rested his hand on her warm damp center. "Does _this_ feel like I don't want you, Obi?"

She gasped when one of those fingers insinuated itself into her snug channel then covered his hand quickly when he tried to withdraw. "I'm not the begging kind, Obi-Wan, but … please."

She looked up into his dear face and saw the beginnings of a gentle smile. "If you're sure," he said. "And don't let me go on if it hurts too much."

"I won't," Padmé promised, regretting the pain she'd caused him. He was a very caring and giving man – it made sense that he would be the same between the silks.

She opened her legs further and he slipped another finger inside of her, brushing up against something that caused her to gasp loudly, the ache becoming unbearable once more. "Obi …," she muttered.

He pulled his fingers free then settled between her legs, slipping his hands round her rear to tilt her hips upward. Then he began to push gently inside, this entry feeling a lot smoother than several minutes earlier. It still felt strange to have him joined so intimately to her, but the pain she'd experienced earlier didn't materialize. In fact … now that she was getting used to him, it actually felt pretty good.

"All right?" he asked softly.

"Mmm." Padmé clenched experimentally around his length. "Feels … good." She lifted her head and kissed his sweet worried face. "I love you," she reassured him, rocking slightly under him.

Obi-Wan returned the kiss then took the rather unsubtle hint and began moving gently within her. No more than an inch either way but she loved the care he showed, the feeling of fullness. And that ache was building once more – between her thighs and in her breasts and low down in her abdomen. She was not naïve about sex, but there was a world of difference between reading about the sensations and actually feeling them. This was _real_, down to the ache of being stretched, the sweat beginning to sheen both their bodies and the strangled groan Obi-Wan emitted when she squeezed his rear end and pushed up against him.

She let out a little yelp when he slipped deeper inside then realized that she still felt good, the slight pain dissipating. She locked her legs around his slim hips and began to move with him, finding a rhythm that suited her.

And the ache inside continued to build as Obi-Wan's speed increased. He worked his hand between their bodies and she started when his fingers brushed over her aching nub. "Obi …," she sighed; the ache at her core multiplying.

He rubbed gently in time with his rocking motions and she could feel her insides tighten. She never would have expected to reach a climax her very first time, but …

"You're thinking too much," Obi-Wan murmured then kissed the top of her nose. "Just … be in the moment."

Good advice. Padmé concentrated on the varying sensations – the scrub of his hair-rough chest on her sensitive nipples, the stretch of his member, the petting of her burning nub …

Then something inside of her broke and she clenched tightly around him, throbbing and gasping. "Gods …," she muttered weakly, releasing the pincer hold that she'd had on his firm buttocks. "Obi … amazing."

He smiled slightly in response but Padmé could tell that he was close to his own release – his movements had become a little jerkier and rougher, responding perhaps to the squeeze of her still clenching muscles. She locked her ankles over his hips and drew him deeper into her, gasping at the sensation and clenching tightly once more.

Obi-Wan gave a low groan and tensed suddenly, just before his release washed violently through her. "Force, Padmé …!" he got out, trembling as his release continued, his movements losing their franticness. He rested on Padmé as the waves of his climax lessened and she stroked her hands down his lightly sweating back, their chests heaving against each other's.

"Sola was right," Padmé remarked languidly.

"About what?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"I should have shoved you to a flat surface and had my wicked way with you a lot sooner."

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh. "A wise woman, your sister." He withdrew gently from her then lay on his side next to her, stroking her hip. "Are you all right?" he added.

"Yes," Padmé replied then added honestly, "A little achy but that was to be expected."

Obi-Wan shifted his hand to rest low on her abdomen and she was surprised to feel a pulsating warmth emanating from his palm. She could feel the aches dissipating, being replaced by an incredible feeling of well-being. "Thank you," she said then surprised herself with an enormous yawn. She hadn't realized she was so tired and wondered briefly if Obi had used a sleep suggestion on her. Cheeky Jedi.

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Obi-Wan smiled when Padmé turned and cuddled into him, wrapping an arm over his abdomen. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead then closed his eyes. He wasn't overly sleepy, but his body craved rest – he'd been running on sheer adrenaline the last couple of weeks.

The faces of the dead – Republic soldiers, Jedi, CIS soldiers, innocent citizens – swam into view and he stiffened. So much death … He was starting to become resigned to it and that was not a feeling he welcomed. Accepting and coming to terms with the death of a loved one was one thing – being inured to the violent deaths of thousands was entirely different. He welcomed the pain, taking it into him and letting it become part of him. He had an appointment with Healer Silven tomorrow – a gentle almost timid human from Ryloth, who was near empathic in her connection to others. She would be able to help him greatly.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had saved her from being raped in a back alley when she was only ten and Qui-Gon had brought her to Coruscant for testing by the Jedi. Some had frowned on someone that old starting Jedi training – it was unusual for a Jedi to not grow up in the Temple from babyhood, but was becoming more common. Silven was around 20 Standard years old now and had become a pretty little thing. She set many a Padawan heart a-flutter – and some of the Knights too – but had developed a crush on Qui-Gon several years ago that showed no signs of abating. Qui-Gon had no idea and Obi-Wan knew that he regarded the young woman in a paternal fashion.

"Stop thinking so much, Obi," Padmé scolded sleepily into his chest. She played with some of his chest hair. "Take your own advice – be in the moment."

Padmé's near-eidetic memory was usually a good thing, but occasionally Obi-Wan wished she wouldn't remember every little thing. "Sorry," he murmured. "Just thinking about the counseling session tomorrow."

"Mmm." Padmé's fingers ghosted over a nipple and he started. "I wish I could spend some time with you tomorrow but I'm stuck in Appropriations all day."

"Rather you than me," Obi-Wan replied lightly. "I don't expect you to weld yourself to me – we both have crucial duties and could be apart for weeks at a time. We'll just have to make the most of the time we _do_ have together."

"Wise man," Padmé slurred, her hair tickling as she shifted her head to his shoulder. "Go to sleep, Obi. Then go see your counselor – you'll need to be rested for that."

"Yes, dear," Obi-Wan teased.

Then winced when she pinched his side. "Horrible male," she laughed. She levered herself up and planted a kiss on his lips. "Now; I'm going back to sleep. Night, Obi."

"Good night, Padmé," Obi-Wan replied, enjoying the tender way she used the diminution of his name. He reached out and switched off the luminater then drew the covers over him and Padmé when she gave a small shiver. It was pretty cold tonight – winter was drawing in, after all. He kissed the top of Padmé's head then closed his eyes. He probably wouldn't sleep much, but he _did_ need the rest.

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What was a man to do when he awoke to a beautiful woman exploring his body with lips and tongue? "Good morning," Obi-Wan said.

Padmé lifted her head up from his abdomen and beamed up at him. "Good morning," she replied then dropped another kiss onto his navel. "I'm sorry," she added. "You just looked so cute when you were sleeping … I couldn't resist the temptation to maul you a little."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Well, don't let me stop you," he said, still struggling to emerge from the depths of sleep. He rarely slept so well nowadays – the war haunting his every thought. Evidently that third round of lovemaking had achieved what Silven's counseling techniques, excellent as they were, had not.

He was a little surprised when his body began to pay attention to Padmé's ministrations. While he wasn't old by any means, he wasn't 20 anymore, and was struggling with exhaustion. She was very bold for someone who'd still been a virgin 24 hours earlier. He made this point to Padmé and she raised her head from the juncture of his thighs, going slightly pink. "I've never been prudish," she said. "But I knew that my first time with a man would be when I was in love. So I was happy to wait." She shifted off of Obi-Wan and rolled off the bed then headed to a small bookshelf, entirely comfortable with her nudity. She rummaged in the bookshelf then came back over to the bed and got in, cuddling into Obi-Wan and toying with the hair on his chest. "This book was passed to Sola when she married Darred and it _somehow_ found its way into my bag."

Obi-Wan scrolled through the datapad then stopped short at one of the illustrations. He tilted his head, trying to study the angles. "Flexible," he commented dryly, his cheeks burning as desire leaped through his body.

"Very," Padmé agreed and beamed at him. "Now _that_ would be a test of those Jedi-trained muscles!"

Obi-Wan looked once more at the entwined couple in the illustration. "They _can't_ be human – no human could bend that way."

"It was written before Naboo made contact with other worlds," Padmé said mildly. She giggled and toyed with one of his nipples. "The male looks like you, Obi – were you a Nubian lovegod in a previous life as well as a Coruscanti one in _this_ life?"

Enough. Obi-Wan put his Jedi-trained muscles to the test and rolled the impudent woman under him, covering her small form with his larger one. She let out a gasp then seemed to melt into him, her hands going to his head when he caught a nipple between his lips and suckled luxuriously.

He switched over to the other nipple and tormented it into the equally tight redness of its twin. "Are you ready to surrender?" he told the woman gasping under him.

Then yelped when she dug her nails into his rear end. "I never surrender," she replied, desire flushing her creamy skin. "Besides, I rather like this beast that's come out in you."

Obi-Wan gnawed at her neck, growling playfully, then made his way down Padmé's beautiful form until the laughter and teasing were replaced with sweet little sighs and moans.


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

**Several weeks later – Somewhere along the Outer Rim:**

Sitting in a barracks with his troops, choking down field rations and nursing bitter instant caf, Obi-Wan felt a smile come to his lips as he recalled the wonderful days he'd spent with Padmé. Those memories were about the only things that could make him smile now as the war dragged on and the death toll increased.

"Datarie for your thoughts?" Commander Cody asked, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his unruly locks.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly at his second in command. "Oh, it's not worth it," he replied. "I was sorry to hear about you and Rana," he added.

Cody lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It wasn't surprising, really," he said. "I'm a poor soldier – I can't spend all my time with her and shower her with gifts."

Obi-Wan frowned at the edge of bitterness in the man's voice. "The right woman won't care about that," he said. "Don't let one failed relationship keep you from finding happiness. I know people who've done that and they're very lonely."

"I know, but … it's too soon right now," Cody said then got up. "Rex and some of the others have challenged Delta Squadron to a smashball match. Shall we go and cheer our boys on?"

Obi-Wan wasn't a fan of smashball, but he understood the need to boost troop morale during these horrible times. He choked down the last of his meal and then got to his feet, gulping down the bitter caf. "After you, Commander," he said.

"As it should be," his second proclaimed cheekily.

Obi-Wan chuckled and followed the other man through the barracks. When had the clone become a friend?

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**On Coruscant:**

Qui-Gon emerged from the Council chambers, walking more heavily than usual, and feeling every one of his seventy years. He'd fought in wars before, had never liked them, but had previously understood just _why_ he was fighting. But _this_ war … it dragged on, causing countless deaths and misery for all concerned. And there seemed no end in sight.

"Good morning, Qui-Gon," Padmé Amidala said, appearing silently beside him.

It was telling of how absorbed he was that he hadn't noticed her appear. "Well, it's a morning," he replied. "I'll reserve judgment on whether or not it's actually good."

Padmé smiled up at him. "I had a com from Obi-Wan last week – he sends his regards."

"How is he doing out there?" Qui-Gon asked. The younger man was a skilled fighter and an even more skilled strategist and negotiator, but he didn't belong in the thick of battle. Qui-Gon was truly worried that the light that was Obi-Wan would be extinguished under the growing darkness.

"As well as can be expected," Padmé replied. "He misses you and me, as well as Javen and Melarina." Then she grinned. "Speaking of whom …," she added as a small fair woman with Obi-Wan's eyes appeared. "Qui-Gon; this is Melarina Rin."

"Kenobi," Melarina said, taking Qui-Gon's hand and squeezing it in an overly familiar manner. "I'm divorced now."

"It's good to finally meet you," Qui-Gon said, retrieving his hand as unobtrusively as possible. "I've heard a lot about Obi-Wan's little sister in the last few years."

"And I've heard a lot about you too," the young woman replied. She tilted her head slightly then raked her eyes down Qui-Gon's form. "I have to say; the holos _don't_ do you justice – you're even sexier in the flesh."

Qui-Gon's cheeks burned at the blatant come-on from this woman that was young enough to be his _granddaughter_ at only 20. "Well … I should go," he said awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to get away. She _was_ attractive – beautiful even – but was far too young for him. "I'm due back at the Temple for sparring practice."

"Well, don't let us keep you," Padmé said, frowning at Melarina. She handed Qui-Gon a datapad. "This is Obi-Wan's latest com."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon replied. He bowed formally to Melarina and then hurried away, frowning when he heard soft laughter coming from the woman.

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"Oh, khest … _delicious_!" Melarina said, staring at the backside of the fast-retreating Master. "I could spend _days_ wrapped up in his hair. And as for that big, sexy body …"

"What about Kayden?" Padmé asked, wondering at the protective urge she felt suddenly for Qui-Gon. He was a mature man – more than capable of fending off even the most determined flirts like Melarina – and yet he seemed somehow … vulnerable.

Melarina shrugged. "We're not exclusive or anything," she said. "I'd like to get married again someday, but not yet. For now, I just want to play a little." She laughed and slid her hand through the crook of Padmé's arm. "Qui-Gon's not married, I'm not married – so what's the harm in two unattached people getting together for a little … ah … recreation?"

"Nothing I suppose," Padmé replied, "but I doubt you'll get anywhere with Qui-Gon. To him you're his best friend's baby sister – the man that's like a brother to him."

"And as such, I'm off limits," Melarina surmised then sighed dramatically. "Oh well, it doesn't mean I can't enjoy looking at him." She flexed her cupped hands. "His _rear_ … it's like a ripe round _kasafruit_."

"Melarina …," Padmé sighed then gave in with a laugh. "You're absolutely incorrigible."

Melarina grinned. "Thank you," she said. "Obi always tells me that." Then she sobered. "I wish he'd come home – I miss him."

"I do too," Padmé replied, hugging the younger woman. "I'll be making a com call to him tonight if you want to join me." Video com was prohibitively expensive and Melarina couldn't afford to use even the public coms very often.

"I don't want to cut in on your time with Obi-Wan," Melarina objected.

"You're his _sister_," Padmé said. "What was it you said on Mandalore? We do for family."

"Gods, Obi was right about you – you _do_ remember everything," Melarina said.

"Pretty much," Padmé said, trying to look modest but failing. "It's a useful skill to have."

"I can imagine so … in your line of work," Melarina replied. "And … thank you. I'll be there. Just … give me a warning if you want to talk dirty to my big brother." She winked, hugged Padmé again and then went off in a different direction.

Padmé's cheeks burned and then she laughed once more. The younger woman really was incorrigible. But she couldn't help but like her.

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Obi-Wan watched his troops as they argued cheerfully with Delta Squadron about the match, which had gone to a hard-fought tie. Alcohol flowed in copious quantities, but he refused the various libations pressed upon him. He rarely drank alcohol as it didn't agree with him.

"Oh, come on, sir!" one of Delta Squadron said, leaning over precariously from her position in Cody's lap. "You know we were the better team."

"I know nothing of the sort, Sergeant," Obi-Wan said, struggling to hide his amusement. His second in command appeared to be handling his recent breakup very well, if the arm around the Sergeant's waist was any indication. It wasn't exactly appropriate for officers to fraternize with enlisted personnel, but they weren't in the same squadron, so Obi-Wan saw no need to interfere. Besides, the small but scrappy Corellian female had proven weeks ago that she could take care of herself, happily putting down men twice her size when they came on too strong.

"And what about you, clone boy?" the Sergeant asked, slinging an arm around Cody's neck. "We nearly beat you, even with the Force on your side." She winked at Obi-Wan.

"Nearly counts for nothing in smashball, Railyn," Cody said. "And don't call me clone boy. I have a name – use it."

"Well, well; a sensitive soul, aren't you?" Railyn leaned back and looked at Cody, who _was_ a little sensitive about his origins. He and Rex had been the first and worked hard to distance themselves from their fellow clones, having far more personality and more free will. Whilst obedience was a good thing in a soldier, Obi-Wan didn't want his people to be mindless drones, and appreciated his second's independence.

"Don't spread that round," Cody said. "You'll ruin my reputation as the permacrete guy."

"Oh, your reputation is intact," Railyn said, "but you're really quite sweet." She set her mug on the table and put her hands in Cody's unruly hair. "You're cute too," she added in surprise. "How'd I not notice that before?"

"You weren't looking," Cody said then lifted Railyn onto her feet and got up himself. "General," he said then exited the mess with his arm around his sparring partner.

Obi-Wan shook his head then smiled. His troops had learned fast to take their moments of joy where they could. As long as both parties were willing and unattached, he saw no harm in it. He'd been approached himself by Railyn just the evening before, but he'd merely thanked her before turning her down – unlike Cody, he was very much attached. And he intended to stay that way.

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Padmé leaned slightly into the small com screen, as if she could physically bring herself closer to Obi-Wan. He looked … tired and older than his years. "Obi … I've been thinking about it. If you're out there for a long time, I don't want you to choose fidelity over sanity."

Obi-Wan frowned. "You _want_ me to cheat?" he asked, sounding appalled.

"I'm serious, Obi-Wan. I know you too well. When things are bad, you stress and hold them in, and that's not good for you. And if it means your sanity … but only if you're there a long time and only with Sabé or Katile." The two Nubians had left Padmé's employ with her blessing to serve on the frontlines. "If this war ends in a couple of months, you'd better be spotless."

The frown deepened. "And do Sabé and Katile _know_ you've offered them to me?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes; they know," Padmé said, frowning back. "They care about you as well as me – and they know that you tend to withdraw into yourself when things become bad." She gave a small smile, trying to lighten the moment. "It wouldn't exactly be a hardship for either of them."

Obi-Wan didn't take the bait. "It won't be a hardship because it won't happen," he said. "I can't believe you'd even suggest it."

"Obi-Wan; I love you and I want you to come back mind, body and soul intact," Padmé said. "I know you love me and that you have no intention of betraying that. But I can't be there with you and if the occasional physical act will keep you safe …"

"I can't," Obi-Wan said. "I'm past the stage of recreational sex. I waited for so long to earn your love; I'm not about to risk losing it now."

Padmé sighed. "I'm not going to change your mind on this, am I?" she asked, resigned to his stubbornness.

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "I know you mean well, but it's just not who I am."

"All right." Padmé gave in. "Is there at least someone you can talk to if things get too bad?"

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "One of Gamma Squadron's officers seems to have become the unofficial counselor – she wasn't suited for combat but she's very good at listening."

"Then … please … go to her," Padmé said.

"I will," Obi-Wan said. "I do understand the value of a good counselor, and how important they are during times of war."

"Thank you," Padmé said, to be interrupted by a horrendous squeal. "It looks like we're losing our signal." She pressed her hand against the vidscreen and Obi-Wan did the same. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Padmé," Obi-Wan replied. "I love you."

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"I love you too …" Whatever else Padmé had to say was lost to the crackle of static. As the war raged on, more and more relay stations were becoming yet another casualty.

Obi-Wan sighed and switched off the com unit, glad that he'd had the chance to talk to his lover, despite the appalling idea she had cooked up. While he wasn't overly romantic, he'd always been monogamous and firmly believed that Padmé Amidala was his soul mate. Therefore he wasn't about to do anything to destroy that.

"That's Padmé?" Rex leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the now blank screen. "Well, kriff … no wonder you're not interested in anyone on this base. How'd a guy like you end up with that little beauty?" His breath reeked of alcohol and Obi-Wan leaned away. "Sir," he added belatedly.

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. "Where did you find that swill?" he asked, feeling his eyes burn from the fumes.

"Ahh … I'd rather not say, sir," Rex replied, gulping down the last of the noxious brew.

"The engine room," Obi-Wan surmised. He'd never met a good engineer that couldn't put together a distillery. "Go to bed now, Captain, and I'll pretend I don't know anything."

"Yes, sir!" Rex left hurriedly, banging into the doorframe as he did so. "Ow."

Obi-Wan smiled. How Rex could feel anything with that reactor coolant swimming through his veins was anybody's guess.

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**Elsewhere on the Outer Rim – Five days later:**

Qui-Gon stared through the viewfinder of his fighter, getting the enemy vessel within his sights, and then pressed the button. Unlike in the holofilms, when a ship was destroyed there was no fire, no explosion – no sound. It was simply there one minute and bits of matter the next.

Along with another loss of life. Qui-Gon would never allow himself to forget that. "I'm sorry," he told the unknown pilot then forced himself to move away, joining the rest of his squadron. While technically a little too big to be in a fighter, he was a superior pilot and leader – and this young inexperienced squadron had suffered appalling losses recently. When the request had reached the Jedi Council for a new commanding officer to lead the air troops, Qui-Gon had not been surprised to be chosen and given the rank of Admiral and an honorary commission in the Republic Navy.

"Echo 4 to Echo 1 – come in Echo Leader."

Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief and toggled the com switch. "This is Echo 1 – glad you're all right."

Jek Porkins was one of the squadron's newer pilots and was more naïve than Obi-Wan as a youngling, but he had good instincts and a sharp eye. Qui-Gon had lost track of the pilot several hours earlier when they'd run foul of a rather large asteroid, and Qui-Gon was relieved that the young man was safe – he deserved better than to meet such a grisly end. They _all_ did, but he was especially fond of Porkins, who really did remind Qui-Gon of a younger Obi-Wan. "Report, Echo 4. Over."

"One of those asteroids clipped my starboard engine. It's still working, but only in fits and starts. Over."

"Then head back to base, Porkins. Over."

"Yes, sir," Porkins replied. "Echo 4 over and out."

"Echo 1 out."

Porkins rolled his fighter extravagantly in salute then broke away from the group to begin the short trek back to _Tantiv II_, their base ship.

"And don't show off!" Qui-Gon sighed. He'd spent the last month impressing on these pilots the utter pointlessness of flashy movements and showmanship. Yet a couple of the really young ones – like Porkins – still resorted to showy tactics. _Youth_, Qui-Gon reminded himself. He'd once been just as impetuous and cocky, but Yoda had trained him out of it in a remarkably short time. In fact by the time he was just 20, he was mature and steady enough to take the Trials and succeed in gaining his Knighthood.

Fifty years … Where had the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday that he'd been a teenage Padawan, driving his Master to despair over the poor control of his emotions – due in main to his attraction to a young Knight named Tahl. Yet Yoda had been one of the first to support the ending of the attachments rule.

Yet since the lifting of the rules, Qui-Gon had formed only one serious attachment – his love for Shmi and Anakin Skywalker. There had been no-one since … he just hadn't felt enough for the women to whom he'd been attracted in the last few years.

_You're lonely_, the opinionated part of his brain pointed out. _Leinara could have been the one._ Qui-Gon and the beautiful reporter had been involved for about six weeks – the longest any of his affairs had lasted – yet he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that she'd attached herself to him because of his and Obi-Wan's popularity. His young friend was handsome, cultured, wise and good … females were drawn to him like insects to flame.

Qui-Gon was an innately modest man, and while he knew that people found him attractive too, he didn't know why. His body was merely a tool – as long as he kept it fit and clothed, that was good enough and he paid it no further attention. Yet, for all his modesty, he was able to handle the avid press attention far better than Obi-Wan. Whichever parent had bequeathed Obi-Wan his reddish hair and blue-gray eyes had also bequeathed him a fair skin that blushed easily. However, he seemed to be far less bashful lately – perhaps due to his strengthening attachment to Senator Amidala.

_You're still lonely_, his mouthy brain reminded him, not willing to be diverted.

_Yes_, Qui-Gon acknowledged. But he was through with the meaningless sexual encounters. He wanted to love someone and be loved in return – flaws and all. Leinara hadn't known the real Qui-Gon – had only seen the Jedi Master. She hadn't seen the man who lost his temper, who snored if sleeping on his back, who would leave half a cup's worth of _kevas_ in the heating unit and not think to top it up. Shmi had accepted his foibles and loved him – although she _had_ smacked him upside the head the last time he'd emptied the _kevas_. He wanted love like that, he thought now, rubbing the back of his head with a small smile. Shmi Skywalker – for all her delicate size – had had quite an arm and excellent aim.

While the back half of his mind had been wrestling with his loneliness, the front half had been coordinating the mop-up of the small pocket of Seps that had been attempting to plunder the world below them. Although technologically poor and non-flight, the world was Republic friendly and had pledged itself to the Republic forces, even if all it could do was to offer hot meals.

Much to Qui-Gon's – and his squadron's – pleasure. He could swear they'd each gained ten pounds in the last week alone. He rubbed his still-flat stomach, thankful that he was still able to fit in the cockpit. With his height and frame, it wouldn't take much of a weight gain to have him stood down from aerial combat.

_You're daydreaming again_, he scolded himself sharply, banking steeply to avoid the remnants of an enemy fighter hull that had tumbled into his path. _Focus on getting your squadron home – your love life has no place here._

With his full attention now on the end of this battle, he began to call his remaining pilots back together for the short trip back to _Tantiv II_.

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**One month later:**

Padmé was amazed to find herself nervous as she stood waiting for Obi-Wan. She stepped backward to avoid a large group of students and slammed into someone. "Oh, goodness; sorry!" she said.

Her victim – a girl perhaps Melarina's age, dressed in a comfortable cloak and tunic – smiled at Padmé. "You didn't hurt me, Senator," she said calmly. "Are you waiting for Master Kenobi?"

_Jedi_, Padmé realized, although maybe still a Padawan. "Yes," she replied. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," the younger woman said. "He and Master Jinn brought me to the Temple for testing a decade ago." She gave another calm smile. "I'm Silven, by the way."

"Obi's counselor?" Padmé felt dread grip her heart.

"Yes; but that's not why I'm here," Silven hastened to reassure her. "Obi-Wan is also my friend."

The dread released its icy grip and Padmé blew out a breath. "You scared me," she admitted.

"I'm sorry," Silven said softly then smiled. "Here he is," she added.

Padmé looked up eagerly. Oh, Gods … he looked so dreadfully worn, the poor dear! Thankfully, his battalion had been rotated out of the frontlines for the next three months, and only a dire emergency would call them back before that time elapsed.

"Obi …," she breathed, flinging her arms around him.

He gripped her tightly and she was dismayed to feel trembling in his hard arms. "My love," he murmured in response, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's so good to be home."

"Sir," Cody interrupted, presenting his hand, "thanks for everything."

"Thank _you_," Obi-Wan replied, taking the other man's hand. "You're a fine man, Commander."

"For a clone boy you mean?" The commander grinned slightly.

"For a clone boy," Obi-Wan replied with a flash of humor. "Clone boy; this is Healer Silven – a good friend of mine. Silven; this is Cody – my second in command."

Silven went pink but smiled up at the handsome trooper. "It's good to meet you," she said, putting her tiny hand out to Cody. Padmé wasn't tall – or even of average height – but she had at least three inches height on the Healer.

"Gods; you're really adorable," Cody blurted out. "I just want to put you in my pocket and take you home."

Silven's pink deepened to a bright red and she tugged her hand free. "Gods … I'm sorry!" Cody immediately added. "Can we put that down to two-year-old stupidity and start over?" he asked.

Padmé glanced up at Obi, who was watching the proceedings with carefully hidden interest. _Why, the tricky old matchmaker!_, she mused.

"All right," the Healer said. "I need to welcome your General home and then I was about to get a meal. If you'd like to join me, you're welcome."

"I would," Cody said. "That's kind of you."

The Healer smiled. "Well, you _are_ only two, after all," she replied. "All two year olds need a babysitter."

And now Padmé believed that the Healer truly was a friend of Obi-Wan's – that was definitely his evil sense of humor.

Silven turned to Obi-Wan and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Welcome home, Master," she said a little louder over Cody's guffaw.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, glancing over at the still chuckling Cody.

"Well, we can catch up later," Silven said, smiling at Padmé. "You need to spend time with your loved ones and I'm apparently on babysitting detail." Obi-Wan laughed at that. "It was nice to finally meet you, Senator," she added.

"Good to meet you too," Padmé replied.

The Healer crooked her tiny finger at the tall well-built Commander. "Come, clone boy," she ordered imperiously.

Cody laughed again and swept a deep bow. "Your wish is my command, your Petiteness."

Padmé sighed at more evidence of Obi-Wan's influence on others as the odd pair departed, still bickering playfully, and then turned to Obi-Wan. "I never figured you for a matchmaker," she commented.

"I'm not," Obi-Wan denied, "but Cody needs a gentle soul like Silven – and Silven has a crush on Qui-Gon that she really needs to get over. Not a little girly crush like yours, either," he teased. "Her attachment to Qui-Gon has blinded her for too long to several possibilities for real happiness."

"Big softy," Padmé teased right back. "If Cody spouts _too_ much of your sarcasm, your hopes of a match won't last."

"Silven's able to handle it," Obi-Wan said, nodding at a number of Republic soldiers they passed as the soldiers made their raucous way through the spaceport.

Padmé stopped suddenly upon seeing a quiet spot and pulled Obi-Wan to one side. She slipped her arms around his neck and caught at his lips. They were in a very public place and both had their equally public reputations to consider, so the kiss wasn't overly passionate. "I've really missed you, Obi," she said, taking his hand as they began walking once more.

"I've missed you too, my sweet Padmé," Obi-Wan replied, squeezing the hand entrapped within his.


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

**Two weeks later:**

"You want me to do _what_?" Obi-Wan eyed Padmé as if she had taken leave of her senses.

"You did it before," Padmé pointed out.

"Yes; as part of a disguise," Obi-Wan argued. "Why do I need to shave my beard off now?"

"Because you love me?" Padmé fluttered her eyelashes shamelessly at him. "And because you offered weeks ago."

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "All right," he gave in ungraciously. "But that's the last time that you can use the 'because you love me' line this month, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, General Jedi, sir!" Padmé barked out, snapping a salute.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "And she calls _me_ a brat," he said woefully. "And don't bat those big brown eyes at me, either."

"Who; me?" Padmé smirked and batted her 'big brown eyes' one more time before laughing and hugging her grumbling lover. "Well, go on then, you big baby." She gave him a push.

"Force; you've become a bossy little creature," Obi-Wan complained. "Why are you so insistent on this all of a sudden?"

The evil side of Padmé came to the fore. "Because I don't fancy whisker burns between my thighs tonight," she said.

Obi-Wan went absolutely scarlet and swallowed hard several times. "You …," he croaked. "You …"

"Yes?" Padmé asked interestedly.

"You're a heartless, evil little woman."

"Why, thank you." Padmé beamed at him then slapped his rear end. "Now, walk that tight little backside into the fresher and remove the Wookiee hide."

"Evil." Obi-Wan shook his head then laughed and wiggled his backside before heading off into the fresher.

Padmé echoed the laugh then made her way out of the bedroom, hoping that there would be caf brewing. She followed her nose and found that Obi – bless him – had set the caf going and it was nearly ready. About time too. She folded her arms and stared at the heating unit as it chugged merrily away then sighed with relief when the audio sounded to advise that perfect heating point had been reached.

She poured herself a large cup of what – on mornings like this – she had come to think of as her own force. "Pour me a cup will you, Padmé?" came a plaintive cry from the fresher.

"Not until you shave," Padmé replied heartlessly. In a very short time, Obi-Wan had become even more addicted to caf than Padmé herself. She wondered just how much of the stuff he drank at Dex's – she knew that he had at least two cups at home in the morning, and the gods only knew how much he drank during the day. She suspected that he would take it intravenously if he could.

There were mutterings from the fresher in a language Padmé didn't know, but she suspected the word 'evil' featured prominently. "I'm shaving, I'm shaving!" he called back.

Padmé smirked and relented, pouring her lover a cup of the caf and putting it on the heating unit to keep warm. Then she went over to the fresher and opened the door, leaning on the frame with her arms folded and watching with pleasure as Obi-Wan's smooth chin emerged from a veritable sea of foam.

He wiped off the remaining foam then turned back to Padmé. "_Now_ may I have my caf?" he asked.

"In the kitchen," Padmé said, enjoying the newly youthful face. Only the lines around his eyes and the streaks of silver in his hair gave away his true age – and one would have to be looking very closely to see that. Padmé knew that anyone who didn't know him would think him much younger and treat him accordingly. And a young-looking person in Jedi garb would be assumed to be a Padawan.

Another smirk appeared on her face. Obi-Wan was in for an interesting time until he gave in and grew the beard back.

"Thank you so much," Obi-Wan complained, steaming past Padmé and heading for the caf. He sighed with pleasure then smiled and Padmé shook her head briskly, trying to get the sudden erotic thoughts out of her head. He looked like lust personified when he drank his caf.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, emerging from his caf-induced bliss to stare at Padmé.

"Nothing," Padmé said. Then, just as he was taking another sip; "I'm just waiting for you to finish making love to your caf."

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply and then choked on the caf, spluttering and coughing. "Gods, Padmé! Are you trying to kill me?" he gasped out, grabbing a towel and dabbing at his face.

"Sorry," Padmé murmured with a smile. She wasn't always this silly but Obi-Wan had suffered so much during his months on the frontlines – she was determined to bring the fun back to him.

"No; you're not," Obi-Wan replied. "And I do not 'make love' to my caf," he informed her loftily. He put his cup down and grabbed Padmé's hand, pulling her up against him, and then wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck and slid his hands down to her rear, pressing her into his firm body. "There's only one thing that I make love to and that's _you_, Senator."

Padmé shivered, her erotic thoughts rushing back to the forefront of her mind, and then she slipped her hands down to squeeze his taut rear. "Good to know," she replied. "Do we have time before your session with Silven?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "Wanton woman," he teased. "And yes, we have time, but not much."

A quickie? As much as she loved Obi-Wan, the idea of a purely physical encounter appealed to Padmé, and she tugged his sleep shirt off and then pulled him over to the settee before he could change his mind.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Obi-Wan emerged from the Temple, feeling much refreshed after the short but intense meditation he'd just carried out. He bowed politely to a matronly lady carrying a small child. "Good morning," he said, stepping slightly to one side to allow her to pass rather than have her step in the large puddle that took up most of the path.

The woman smiled. "Good morning, young man," she replied. She patted his arm. "Thank you," she added then made her way onward.

Young man? He couldn't look _that _much younger than her – even without his beard – could he? He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

The bad feeling intensified when a group of adolescent females stopped in their tracks and stared blatantly at him then moved on, conversing in heated whispers about him. Jedi trained their senses as much as they trained their minds and bodies, and his hearing was far more acute than the average human's.

"Isn't that Obi-Wan – the Jedi Master?" one of the girls asked.

"Can't be," another one said decidedly. "He's got a beard and has to be nearly forty. Maybe it's a younger brother."

"They make them nice in the Temple, don't they?" the first girl laughed. "You think Obi-Wan was that cute when he was that young?"

"Say it louder, why don't you?" yet another girl scolded. "I wonder if the myth about Jedi super-hearing is true?"

"We don't have super-hearing," Obi-Wan said, unable to bear any more of this, "but yes; I can hear what you're saying."

"Oh." The first girl went red and then laughed. "Sorry; but you really _are_ cute. If you're not doing anything tonight, there's a party at the University we go to. We can always use nice-looking males to make up the numbers."

Obi-Wan shook his head, fighting back the blush. "Sorry, girls, but I really _am_ who you think and, therefore, too old for you."

"Oh well, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy looking!" said the first girl then made her way back to Obi-Wan. "You're really sexy without that beard. And if that Senator doesn't treat you right, look me up."

She brandished a small datachip, causing Obi-Wan to blush heavily. _Padmé; you are so dead._ "Thank you, but no thank you," he replied as calmly as he could, wondering how they'd found out about his and Padmé's relationship. They weren't hiding it but neither were they advertising it. "Anyway; don't let me keep you. Have a good day."

"And you," the girl said then winked, not seeming at all disconcerted by the rebuff. "_Really_ nice to meet you in the flesh. And _what_ flesh!"

He blushed once more, reflecting on how much his sister would like this girl, bowed slightly to the young women and then moved on, heading for the swoop stop. He needed another caf and some sensible conversation – he was sure Kila would be able to provide him with both. Granted; he didn't know her very well, but she'd struck him as someone eminently practical and not given to girly giggling or flirtation.

He got on the swoop, trying to ignore the blatant stares of those passengers who were familiar with him, and paid his fare. Thank the Force that the Temple was only a short ride from Coco Town! He hadn't even lasted a day and he already wanted his beard back. He just wasn't comfortable with being the focus of so much female attention, even though he'd been that focus for over a decade now.

He got off at Coco Town and made his way into Dex's, nodding to the huge Besalisk and accepting the arm that Neela slipped around him. Flirtation came naturally to the Togruta and meant nothing. "Hello, Neela," he said. "Is Kila here?"

Neela pouted. "If I didn't know you were madly in love with that Senator, I'd feel slighted," she said playfully. "Hey, Kila! Cute Jedi here to see ya!"

"What?" Kila emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, and then nodded her head. She came over to Obi-Wan and examined him thoughtfully, eyebrows rising. "Let me guess; someone persuaded you to shave, and now you regret it and want to kill them."

She really was perceptive. Obi-Wan nodded his head and then extended his senses. She did have some Force sensitivity, but there was too much fear and anger in her to allow her to be trained. "Clever woman," he replied. "Could I have a caf, please?"

"And something to eat?"

"I can always eat," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "Is this a bad time or do you have time to sit and chat for a while?"

Kila nodded her curly head then grinned impishly. "Let me guess; you need sanctuary from your rabid admirers." She indicated two women – possibly Padmé's age – that were leaning up against the diner's window, staring blatantly at Obi-Wan. "I wish I could read lips," she added.

Obi-Wan managed to laugh at that. If it had happened to anyone else, he would be immensely amused, he had to admit. "I fell victim to Padmé's batting eyelashes," he confessed ruefully, trying not to look at the staring females – he didn't want to encourage them in any way.

"Ah." Kila tapped into her datapad and then passed it to one of the droid waitresses. "See; that's the good thing about being single," she said. "Except for Dex, I'm my own boss."

"Except for the batting eyelashes, it's completely worth it," Obi-Wan said. "I've never felt love like this before."

"It's not something I can see happening to me," Kila said, blushing slightly. "I can't imagine some poor creature ever falling for me." Then she smiled. "Yes; it'd be nice to have someone around for the good times but the bad times would probably outweigh the good ones. If I stay alone, I can't get hurt." She went red and looked hastily down at her datapad, appearing to regret her long speech.

Obi-Wan felt a flash of anger toward the person or persons that had caused this sweet, bright woman to fear emotional – and likely physical – intimacy then pushed it to one side. He could only hope that she met someone who could get past her barriers. Happily in love himself, he wanted the same for all his unattached friends, hence his setting-up of Cody and Silven.

The young Healer had shocked Obi-Wan this morning by telling him that she and Cody had married the previous day – a mere fourteen days after meeting. He thought that was rather precipitous, considering Cody's recent failed relationship, but the man looked like he was walking on air and Obi-Wan had never seen Silven so content and happy.

He debated briefly the merits of trying to match Kila with one of his friends but then decided against it. The young woman simply wasn't ready, and it was far too soon in their friendship for him to presume – he had the feeling that one wrong move would send her running for cover.

A small hand waved in front of his eyes and he realized that he'd drifted off. "Sorry," he said, smiling at the woman seated opposite him. "I don't think I'm very good company today," he apologized.

Kila smiled back at him as she poured two cups of caf. "Don't worry about it, Obi-Wan," she said. "I'm not exactly the most scintillating person around. And I don't need to chatter constantly." She patted the datapad on the table. "Drink your caf and eat your food then if you want to drift off into one of your Jedi trances, I'll sit and read. All right?"

Jedi trances? He'd heard their meditative state described a number of ways but that was a new one. But he appreciated her understanding and acceptance. "All right," he agreed, taking a sip of his caf. "Thank you." He took a larger sip, unable to resist the taste, even though it was still far too hot.

Kila smirked and passed him a glass of water with dancing eyes. "So much for the vaunted Jedi calm and patience," she teased as he coughed.

Obi-Wan rolled his watering eyes but accepted the glass. "Why are all the women in my life such brats?" he complained, but was pleased that she seemed to be getting more comfortable around him. He didn't want people to be scared of him.

Kila laughed. "Like calls to like," she pointed out. "You're a bit of a brat yourself at times, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan grimaced at the woman, who merely laughed again. He was all too aware of his mischievous, sarcastic side, although at 35 Standard years, he thought he was too old to be regarded as a brat. Mind you, Kila couldn't be all that much younger than he, despite the slight naïveté he sensed, yet she was showing all the signs of being quite a brat. He decided to change the subject – this was one battle that he wasn't going to win. He leaned back slightly as the droid waitress put down a large bowl filled with some kind of casserole that smelled particularly tasty.

"That smells good," he said to Kila. "Is this Dex's doing or yours?"

Kila smiled. "Dex's," she said. "He's far better at dinners than I am – I like making desserts." She patted her abdomen with a laugh. "And eating them, too," she added. "I could swear I've gained more weight in the last two years than I could have in ten years on Tatooine."

"You're from Tatooine?" Now he knew why her accent had sounded familiar – she sounded a little like young Anakin Skywalker, although there was a lilt to her accent that suggested she'd spent a lot of time amongst non-Tatooine residents.

Kila frowned slightly. "That's right," she said.

And once again, Obi-Wan felt those remnants of pain and humiliation. It didn't take a Force-sensitive to realize that whoever had abused Kila – and it seemed more than likely that she'd been physically if not sexually abused – had lived with her on Tatooine. A relative, perhaps. He knew better than to comment on what he'd felt from her and merely nodded his head. "I spent a little time on Tatooine about ten years ago," he said. "An … interesting place."

Kila snorted. "Well, I don't know where the kriff you went to!" she said, handing Obi-Wan a spoon and fork. "Tatooine is just a big dustball of nothing."

It _was_ quite desolate, Obi-Wan remembered, yet it also held a stark beauty due to its white sands and double suns that made the sands glitter. From a distance it actually looked like a third sun and had deceived the early explorers thus for many years. "I don't know about that," he argued. "I think each world has its own kind of beautify if you look hard enough – as does each being."

Kila snorted again, looking down at herself. "You're a strange man, Obi-Wan, but you have a rather interesting way of looking at things," she said then smiled. "It must help you to be able to see the beauty in things … although I defy you to find anything beautiful about a Hutt!"

Obi-Wan laughed, thinking about the reptilian Hutt species that ruled on Tatooine. The race looked rather like a greenish-gray slug, they drooled constantly, and wallowed in their own decadence. They were quite thoroughly disgusting to look at, and their mores were such that most mammalians couldn't relate to them at all. They just didn't think the same way as mammalians and, whilst Obi-Wan tried to remember that and to judge them on their own merits, they were … repugnant. "Well, you've got me on that," he said ruefully. "All the same, I try not to prejudge someone simply on the way they look or by their species."

Kila frowned and, yet again, the pain and humiliation radiated from her. "Well, you're a better person than I am," she said then tapped his hand. "Anyway; eat!" she scolded. "Anyone who comes to Dex's should expect to get fed. Either by me or the big scary one."

Obi-Wan laughed again – this woman was really quite amusing, with a wry, witty sense of humor. "You don't sound like you're scared of him," he offered mildly if a little curiously. The huge Besalisk was intimidating by his sheer size, never mind his always-brusque and often-aggressive manner.

"I'm not," Kila replied cheerfully. "He's a dear sweet man who took me in when I had nowhere else to go. He's very protective of me and I think he loves me. He never had children, you know, and I think he adopted me when I came here."

The Besalisk was rough but he was loyal to a fault and would willingly allow himself to be hurt for a friend. He had excellent qualities, but so many people didn't see them due to his rough ways and slightly disreputable activities.

"I heard my name, Sweetness!" Dex appeared from out of the kitchen then grinned widely. "Obi-Wan … who got you to shave off the beard?"

Obi-Wan had almost forgotten the reason he'd hidden out at Dex's. But now he lifted his hand to rub his smooth chin. "Guess," he said ruefully.

Dex laughed, his huge belly shaking. "Well, we know who rules the roost in _your_ relationship!" he taunted. "That's the good thing about bein' single."

"I said that!" Kila chimed in.

"Yeah, well, _you_ shouldn't be single, Sweetness," Dex said. "You're not a big ornery beast like me. You're sweet, nice-lookin' and cook like a dream – some lucky fella will snap you up soon enough."

Kila frowned up at the Besalisk. "Don't," she said quietly. "Please."

She really didn't handle compliments well, Obi-Wan realized now, startled to see her eyes shine with unshed tears. "Dex," he murmured.

The Besalisk sobered and squeezed Kila's shoulder tenderly. He wasn't the most sensitive of beings, but his soft spot for Kila was obvious. "Sorry, Sweetness," he said. "Why don't you just tell me to shut my big mouth?"

Kila shrugged, patting his huge hand just before it left her shoulder. "You were just trying to be nice, but I'd prefer not to hear falsehoods. I respect hearing the truth far more, even if it's not nice."

She didn't even believe the compliments she received. She wasn't as beautiful as Padmé by any means, but she had an appealing womanly roundness and lovely eyes. Who in the galaxy had convinced her that she was ugly? But Obi-Wan didn't say anything – he didn't want to add to her upset when their friendship was just beginning to flower.

Dex squeezed her shoulder once more then stood back. "Well … I'm goin' back in the kitchen," he said gruffly then turned his attention to two waitresses that were arguing in the corner. "Hey!" he roared, making Kila and Obi-Wan start violently. "I pay you two harpies to work, not to fight! You wanna fight, I'll send you to the bare-knuckle rings on Tatooine!" He heaved his great bulk away and split the waitresses up.

Kila grinned slightly at Obi-Wan. "And that's why we all work so hard for him," she said. "He doesn't stand for any nonsense, and they're all scared witless of him." She fiddled with her neckline. "For some reason, I'm the only one that can see the dear, sweet man he hides so well."

Part of that was due to her moderate Force sensitivity, Obi-Wan decided. But the majority of it was likely that something in Kila had brought out Dex's deeply hidden good qualities. He'd always been a good friend to Obi-Wan, and he certainly cared for his waitresses – even the 'harpies' that he'd just split up – but he'd never seen Dex display such tenderness as he did when he was with Kila.

Even Obi-Wan found himself wanting to protect her from all the hurts of the galaxy. And not simply because he was a Jedi. He actually felt like a big brother to her and smiled slightly. It might be nice to have another little sister.

His life was certainly different to how he'd envisioned it unfolding as a Padawan. He'd found his family and fallen in love with Padmé – and now he was adding Kila to his growing family. He allowed himself a moment to wonder how his life would have turned out if the rules on attachments had still been in effect. He of course would still be Jedi – he would _always_ be a Jedi – but some other lucky soul would be with Padmé and he would be alone and probably not even realize what he was missing.

Shaking off the introspection and sudden somber mood, he drank his caf and hummed slightly as the rich nutty taste wrapped around him. Then he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. Padmé was right – he _did_ make love to his caf.


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

**The next day:**

Padmé woke and stretched lazily then shifted around in the bed, seeking out her lover's warmth. A firm body and rough chest met her own chest and she slid an arm around his waist. "Morning," she said.

"Good morning," Obi-Wan replied.

Padmé squinted blearily up at him, noting the emerging beard. He'd informed her last night of his intention to grow it back after suffering a number of blatant propositions from young women the entire day. The only respite had been the hours he'd spent at Dex's with the mysterious Kila. A very small insecure part of her wondered if maybe the waitress was making a play for Obi-Wan, but the secure sensible part of her trusted Obi. Women had been coming on to him for years and he'd rarely reciprocated – although he'd deny it to his last breath, he was a romantic who seemed to believe in soul mates.

When he'd thrown away the razor and shave cream, she had pouted playfully but accepted his reasoning – he was quite bashful and although she'd known the female interest would increase, she hadn't realized just how uncomfortable Obi-Wan was with it. She sighed and levered herself away with a small groan – Obi-Wan had shown her very thoroughly the difference not having whiskers made, and her muscles ached very sweetly. She gave a small shiver at the hours of erotic pleasure then forced herself to think of the mundane before she went somewhere her body just couldn't handle right now. "Caf?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Obi-Wan replied, a small smile tugging at his lips as she got stiffly out of bed. Smug creature. But he'd earned the right to be smug – it had been an energetic, ecstatic night filled with laughter, tears and immense pleasure.

He got out of bed, his body betraying no stiffness. He might be eleven years older than Padmé but he was incredibly fit … and flexible. A flush sprang to Padmé's cheeks as she recalled the varied ways in which he'd demonstrated that flexibility. "I'll make the caf, Padmé," he said. "You go and have a shower – set the sonic to Level 3 first and that'll help with the stiffness."

"Smug beast," Padmé muttered upon seeing the laughter in his eyes. "Is this funny to you?"

"Yes, indeed," Obi-Wan admitted cheerfully. "Considering it was only a few months ago that you, O Petite Senator, implied that I was getting old."

"Oh, well, I didn't mean to _imply_ anything, my love," Padmé replied. "I meant to say it flat out."

Then she yelped when he slapped her rear end. "You're a horrible little woman at times," Obi-Wan told her. "Now scoot to the fresher before I punish you the way you deserve."

"I'm trembling in my shoes," Padmé said then looked down deliberately at her small bare feet. "Oh, that's right – I'm not _wearing_ any shoes."

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Have you been smoking something hallucinogenic?" he teased. "You're being even stranger than usual."

"Says the master of strange," Padmé shot back, heading for the fresher. "Now make me my caf like a good little Jedi."

And yet more mutterings in an unknown language. She hadn't realized before just how multilingual the man was. "What was that?" she asked, turning on the sonic to Level 3 and cringing at the high-pitched wail the unit emitted before quieting down.

"Charybdian for trouble-maker," Obi-Wan said, appearing suddenly in the fresher and causing Padmé to start – he moved so quietly. She winced when the jerky movement exacerbated her aches and pains. _Poor old dear_, she reflected. _I'm only 24 – should I be feeling so old?_

He held up a small bottle then stepped into the fresher with Padmé. "Massage oil," he said. "You're really sore, and I don't want you suffering all day."

Padmé eyed him suspiciously, but all the smugness had left his features. He really was worried that he'd hurt her during their enthusiastic lovemaking over the night. She wanted to reassure him that she'd be all right, but she wasn't so certain that she _would_ be if she didn't get help soon. And Obi-Wan was incredibly good at massaging – she recalled with pleasure that massage he'd given her on Naboo the night before they'd left. "Thank you," she said instead.

"You're welcome," he replied then twirled his hand. "Turn around – I'll do your neck first." He reached over her shoulder and switched the settings from sonic to water.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Obi-Wan rubbed at his chin, which was already showing a satisfying amount of growth, and then took the seat that the Chancellor's aide indicated. "May I get you some refreshments, Master Kenobi?" the aide asked.

She sounded just as uncomfortable as Obi-Wan felt. Why he'd been asked to report directly to the Chancellor instead of going through the Jedi Council was beyond him. Doubtless Palpatine had a good reason; although Obi-Wan didn't trust the Nubian, he generally seemed to have the Republic's best interests at heart.

"Um … a _kevas_ would be nice, thank you," he told the young aide.

The aide bobbed her head then disappeared through a small door into what was presumably a kitchen. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, closed his eyes and centered himself, seeking out the Force. There was something about Palpatine's inner sanctum that made him very uneasy – the retinue of staff with unspecified functions, the dozens of holo-cameras, the large portrait of Palpatine that dominated the center wall. He couldn't pin down the source of his discomfort – and the not knowing made him even more uncomfortable.

A door opened and the Chancellor appeared with a large welcoming smile on his face. "Master Kenobi!" he greeted as if he hadn't seen Obi-Wan for years. "Welcome, welcome! I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting, but Senate affairs sadly take precedence over an intelligent discussion with the Jedi." He reached Obi-Wan and clasped his shoulders warmly. "Have you been offered refreshments?"

"Yes; your aide is currently making me some _kevas_," Obi-Wan replied politely, trying not to cringe away from the Chancellor's grasp. Just for an instant, he'd felt something dark in Palpatine and it had made him recoil.

"Good, good." Palpatine released Obi-Wan. "Well, let's go into my office – we'll both be more comfortable there – and you can give me your report of the frontlines."

"Of course," Obi-Wan replied, following the older man into the inner office. It was opulently decorated and boasted several life-size portraits of Palpatine. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at the rampant egotism so evident but said nothing. He sat down where the Chancellor indicated then smiled politely when the young aide placed a steaming cup of _kevas_ in front of him. "Thank you," he said.

The aide bobbed a small curtsy, shocking Obi-Wan. Since when was a political aide required to curtsy? "You're welcome, sir," she said before placing a cup in front of the Chancellor. "Do you need anything else, sir?" she asked Palpatine.

Palpatine waved a hand negligently. "No, no; my dear, that will be all. You should take your lunch break now, while you can – this afternoon will be very busy and I need you to stay alert."

"Yes, sir," the girl murmured, bobbed another curtsy, and then left Palpatine's office.

Palpatine sighed then took a sip of his own drink. "She's scared of her own shadow but makes a wonderful _kevas_," he said then motioned to Obi-Wan's cup. "_Kevas_ is best drunk while hot."

Obi-Wan sipped carefully at the _kevas_, surprised to find that it was exactly how he liked it. "It's good," he said, "thank you."

"Mmm. Well, if we could sit here and drink _kevas_ all afternoon, that would be most enjoyable," the Chancellor said. "Unfortunately, the war takes up far too much of our lives." He leaned slightly over his desk and regarded Obi-Wan piercingly. "I suppose you're curious why I speak to you directly instead of going through the various layers of our respective bureaucracies."

Obi-Wan had to smile at that – the man certainly was perceptive. "I _am_ curious," he admitted, taking another sip of the wonderful _kevas_.

"Believe it or not, Master Kenobi, but there aren't many benefits to this job. I have a beautiful home and furnishings and I'm paid well, but the hours are terrible and I spend each day defending the decisions I made the day before. Reports – by the time they reach me – have been interpreted and summarized almost to the point of losing their meaning." He smiled slightly. "I know that you distrust politicians as a species – not altogether undeservedly – but you're good, strong and honest – one of the best Jedi I've ever met. And that's why I wanted you to report to me – I know I'll get the truth from you, whether it's what I want to hear or not."

Obi-Wan shifted a little uncomfortably at this fulsome praise from a man that he had never liked. There were plenty of Jedi better and stronger than he; why was Palpatine speaking thus? "I'll do my best to give you what you need, Chancellor," he said, taking another sip of his _kevas_.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Lord Sidious observed the shifting emotions in the younger man – who looked even younger without the heavy beard covering his chin and cheeks. He'd always had great scorn for the Jedi Order and its devotees, yet this young man intrigued him. Sidious had given up his idea of turning Qui-Gon Jinn – the older man was powerful and could pose a serious threat to Palpatine if he turned to the Sith. Obi-Wan was younger and just as strong, but was more malleable than the notoriously stubborn and rebellious Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan would make a fine apprentice – would develop his skills as they should be under Sidious' guidance rather than being stifled by Jedi dogma.

Obi-Wan finished his report then sat back with a sigh, looking completely undone. His time on the frontlines had been hard on the sensitive and caring young man, filling him with doubts and fears that he didn't want to admit, even to himself. Good, good … Sidious could use those doubts and fears to begin the process of turning Obi-Wan. It would not happen quickly, but Sidious was confident that it _would_ happen. Obi-Wan Kenobi would one day make a saber with a red blade.

"Chancellor?"

The puzzled query from the younger man made him aware that he'd drifted off again. It would not do for his dreams of a Sith Empire to be exposed until the time was right. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," he said now, reining in his thoughts before the perceptive young Jedi could discern them. "This terrible destructive war takes a toll on us – even those of us not on the frontlines."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Sometimes not being able to take action is more frustrating than being in the thick of it," he said. "Qui-Gon told me much the same thing before his posting to the _Tantiv II_."

"Yes," Sidious agreed, reflecting on the other Jedi. "I've come to know Qui-Gon quite well since I took office and can understand his feelings of helplessness." He lowered his voice, sounding inviting. "How does he fare?"

If Obi-Wan was surprised at the politician's interest he didn't show it – always calm and controlled was the young Kenobi. That steady strength would serve him well as Sidious' Right Hand. "Well, thank you," he replied with another sip of his _kevas_. "I haven't heard from him for a while, but …"

"You'd know," Sidious finished. "The bond between you and your former Master is surprisingly strong, given your … difficult beginning."

Obi-Wan's bright eyes shuttered, as if a shield had slammed into place. "Oh?" he said neutrally.

"Gossip – even from the most unreliable sources – can be a very useful tool," Sidious replied smoothly, seizing on the kernel of self doubt that Obi-Wan had shown so plainly. "I'm not interested in your life history," he lied, "but it behooves me to learn a little more about a fine young Jedi Master that will soon ascend to the Jedi Council."

Obi-Wan looked even more uncomfortable if that was possible, and Sidious decided that that was enough for now. The seeds of discomfort with Obi-Wan's fellow Jedi had been planted. Sidious would watch and bide his time.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan shuddered slightly as he left the Chancellor's office, feeling unclean somehow. What had Palpatine hoped to gain by bringing up his once fraught relationship with Qui-Gon? True; they _had_ had a bad beginning but had grown closer over the years. Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan's big brother, best friend, father and teacher and they loved each other very much.

And as for that rubbish about his joining the Jedi Council soon … For all Palpatine's astuteness and understanding of people, he didn't seem to know a lot about the Council. Obi-Wan had only been a Master for three years – there were Jedi Masters of twenty, even thirty, years standing that had not been invited to join the select few on the Council. Qui-Gon had only just joined despite having been a Master for over twenty five years – and he was a far greater Jedi than Obi-Wan could ever hope to be.

Obi-Wan was an innately modest soul and had no idea of his sterling qualities. His calm thoughtful nature and steadiness of character did not seem like much when stacked against Qui-Gon's sheer physical and Force strength. Yet the older man had trod on many toes in his years for his impulsive acts, his rebellion and unwillingness to change. And it had only been the devastating loss of the Skywalkers that had settled and steadied him.

He paused outside Dex's and decided to have a quick caf and some sweetcake before heading back to the Temple. He wouldn't get meaningless flattery from either Dex or Kila – Dex was too downright and Kila seemed to have joined Melarina in being a bratty little sister. If he ever showed any signs of self-aggrandizement, those two women – and Padmé of course – would soon knock it out of him.

"Hey, Obi-Wan!" Dex yelled as Obi-Wan took a seat. "What can I get ya?"

Obi-Wan smiled up at the giant Besalisk. "It's not like you to be taking orders," he said. "Are you short-staffed today?"

"Yeah; Sweetness is off sick today, so I'm pitchin' in," Dex returned. "So; what can I get ya, my boy?"

"I hope she's all right," Obi-Wan said, concerned. One of the regulars – an enormous spacer that had to easily be seven feet tall – scowled blackly at him. Obi-Wan scowled back, a little taken aback and a touch confrontational after his 'meeting' with Palpatine.

"She will be," Dex replied. "She's got that horrible Zantex flu that's been goin' round, so she's pretty miserable at the moment."

"Is she up to having visitors?" Obi-Wan asked, not wanting his newest friend to be alone and miserable.

The spacer scowled even more blackly and muttered something about "Kriffing Jedi; think they can rule the galaxy."

"Excuse me; just what is your problem?" Obi-Wan got to his feet and went over to the spacer's table. It was not his style to seek out a fight but he'd been in a bad mood for several hours now and wouldn't be able to meditate until after his next round of meetings.

The spacer lumbered to his feet, his angelic baby face and blue eyes a stark contrast with his monstrous size. "You heard me – you got ears."

"So have you, but I could change that," Obi-Wan replied calmly. "So … what is your problem with Jedi?"

"My 'problem'," sneered the spacer, "ain't with Jedi – it's with you, Kenobi. You'd better treat that little girl right or, Jedi or not, I'll end you."

"She can look after herself, and my relationship with the Senator is none of your business."

"Not the politician," the spacer spat out. "Kila. She deserves better than some two-timing creep like you."

"Well, I don't know who told you that I'm involved with Kila, but they're wrong," Obi-Wan replied. He sent out a small feeler and realized that the man was in love with Kila. "If you care about someone, do something about it, but don't waste my time with unfounded accusations."

The scowl never left the spacer's face, but a blush made its way up his cheeks. "I warned ya, Kenobi – be good to her, friend or whatever you are." Then he lumbered out of the diner.

Obi-Wan sat back down and nodded to Dex. "How long has he been in love with Kila?" he asked.

"Bout a year," Dex replied, "and I can't blame him for bein' protective of her. I feel the same way but I know you better'n he does – you'd never hurt her."

"Of course not," Obi-Wan replied, feeling tired all of a sudden as the adrenaline rush dissipated. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway; I'd like a caf and a slice of sweetcake, please."

"Yeah; no problem." Dex tapped into his datapad then handed it to one of the droid waitresses. "Kila ain't up to visitors at the moment, but in a coupla days maybe." He squished himself into the bench opposite Obi-Wan. "I'm keepin' an eye on her," he added, "and she's lettin' me fuss so I know she's sicker 'n she lets on. Usually she doesn't let me hover."

"You really love her, don't you?"

The enormous Besalisk laughed shortly. "Yeah; guess I do," he admitted. "I ain't never had kids – never wanted to be tied down by screamin' brats – but Sweetness is like a daughter to me." He gave another louder laugh. "Of course; even a 10 year old Besalisk is bigger than tiny little Kila."

At around 5 feet 5, Kila was probably of average height for a human female from a normal-gravity world. But to the enormous Besalisk, Kila probably _did_ look tiny. Obi-Wan chuckled. "If you think Kila's tiny, I should have you meet my friend, Silven. She's easily six inches shorter than Kila."

"I've met her," Dex said. "She came in earlier with her husband. And since when does a baby like that have a husband?" he added disapprovingly.

And there were Dex's protective instincts again. It was just one of the many things that made Obi-Wan feel privileged to call the Besalisk his friend.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé strolled along the busy streets of downtown Capitol City, enjoying the rare sensation of anonymity. No-one bowed and scraped to her or stepped out of her way – in fact she'd just been the recipient of a loud diatribe in gutter Coruscanti when she'd nearly stepped into the path of a passing speeder.

Dormé had nearly had a conniption when Padmé had told her that she was going out – alone, Padmé reflected with a small grin. But it felt wonderful to be free of attendants – to just be one of the crowd. She stopped at a small clothes shop and looked in the window interestedly. The clothing wasn't her style, being heavy and fussy – _not_ suitable for her small slim frame. Yet if the frills were removed from the creamy-colored dress in the window, it would make a beautiful evening dress.

Padmé dug in her pocket to make sure she had sufficient dataries and then hurried into the shop before she could change her mind. A tall Togruta female came over to her after several minutes. "Are you looking for something specific?" she inquired.

"I'd like to try on that dress in the window," Padmé replied.

The Togruta stepped back slightly and looked her up and down. "If I may be frank …"

"Go ahead." Padmé waved her hand.

"I don't believe that dress will suit you. You're small and delicate – those layers and ruffles will simply drown you."

Padmé smiled at that honesty. So much for 'the customer is always right'. "I agree," she said. "But if it fits me, would you be able to make the necessary alterations? It's a lovely color and fabric."

"Of course," the Togruta replied. She went over to the display and removed the dress from where it was draped over a chair. Then she came back over to Padmé and waved her into a small curtained off cubicle. "Just let me know when you've tried it on. If you still like it, we can then work out what alterations would be needed."

"Thank you," Padmé replied, taking the dress and disappearing into the cubicle. She wriggled quickly out of her Senate regalia, pleased to be out of the confining overly fussy garment, and then slipped the cream dress over her head. It was quite a good fit, although the flounces and ruffles _really_ had to go.

A knock on the door startled her. "How's it going in there?" the assistant asked her.

"It fits well," Padmé said, "but I can't deal with all the frills."

"May I come in?"

"Of course," Padmé returned then rubbed at her throat, surprised to find it feeling a little tight like she needed to cry … or had eaten Alderaan shellaks, to which she was horribly allergic.

The door opened and the Togruta came in. She put her hands on her hips and scrutinized Padmé closely. "The color is lovely on you and, like you say, it does fit well." She pulled out a datapad. "Is it safe to presume that _all_ the foofoo should go?"

Padmé chuckled. "If that means frills and furbelows, then yes," she agreed, rubbing once more at her throat. She coughed. "May I have a glass of water, please?" she asked.

"Of course," the Togruta said then frowned. "Are you all right, Senator? You look pale – even by Nubian standards."

"Mmm," said Padmé, surprised at how low-key the vibrantly dressed female was being at having a fairly well-known personage in her store. She coughed again, wondering if she was coming down with that horrible Zantex flu that was currently raging through Capitol City.

As the Togruta made her way back out onto the main shop floor, Padmé turned and examined her refection once more. Truly; once the "foofoo" was discarded, this would be a beautiful dress. She frowned when her throat tightened yet again – really, this was becoming irritating.

Then the tightness intensified suddenly and brutally, causing her to panic. She couldn't breathe! Forgetting about anonymity, she stumbled out of the cubicle and grasped someone's arm. "Help," she got out. "Can't … breathe …"

A blank grayness took over her vision and she slipped quietly into that nothingness.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Tyln Dooku clenched his fist for several seconds, picturing the pale delicate neck, the small fragile bones. It would be so easy to snap those bones, to end the threat, but it wasn't time yet. The fools that had planted the bomb on the Senator's ship had miscalculated – no-one should have been killed that day. But better some insignificant servant than the Senator.

Dooku was aware of his Master's plans for young Kenobi, and felt that the Senator was the best means of turning the Jedi. He doubted that those plans would ever come to fruition, however. The young man was deeply immersed in Jedi dogma – lived, ate and breathed the Jedi way. Turning him would be nigh on impossible – even for a Sith Lord as powerful as Sidious.

Dooku relaxed his fingers as he felt the Senator slip into unconsciousness. She was rarely alone or unmonitored, so when one of his sources had informed him that she was wandering about unescorted in the ghetto of Coco Town, he'd taken advantage of that.

Then he felt a flicker in the Force and concentrated. It was immature and unfocused, yet powerful. A tiny life – no more than six days old perhaps – stirred within Amidala's womb. Without further deliberation, he clenched his fist once more, this time not stopping until the tiny life was extinguished. The child of Kenobi could be a great ally … or a great danger, and Dooku wasn't prepared to take the chance.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

Obi-Wan hurried into the medical unit attached to 500 Republica and sought a doctor. "I'm looking for Senator Amidala," he said.

The woman – a large forbidding-looking creature – frowned. "Are you family?" she asked.

She evidently didn't follow the tabloids. "No, but we're lovers," he said a little shyly.

The frown only deepened. "I can only admit family," she said, "not some male claiming to be a _lover_."

"The Senator's family is on Naboo," Obi-Wan said, trying not to get angry with the officious woman. "It'll take them days to get here."

"Matrinka; please allow Master Kenobi in," a soft voice piped up.

Silven, Obi-Wan realized with relief. The woman's frown faded a little under the steely glare of the tiny Healer. Then she flounced away, muttering something about 'immoral conduct … sex outside of marriage'.

Silven tucked her little hand into Obi-Wan's and drew him along the corridor. "I'm sorry about Matrinka," she said. "She's new to Coruscant and her culture frowns on pre-marital relations. As far as I'm concerned you _are_ part of the Senator's family with or without a pledge bracelet."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied as they stopped outside a door. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then opened the door and walked in. "Oh … gods," he murmured. Padmé lay on a large white bed, her skin nearly as pale as the sheets. Her beautiful hair had been cropped nearly to the skin to allow sensors to be placed on her skull and a breathing tube had been inserted. She looked so frail – not a word he would ever have associated with the strong young woman.

"She's in a light coma at the moment," Silven said, bringing a seat over from an unoccupied bed. "Internal examinations indicate that her throat closed for over a minute, cutting off the oxygen to her brain, yet we can't find anything that would have caused it."

"A _light_ coma?"

"Her body has shut down to allow her to heal," Silven replied, pushing Obi-Wan down into the seat and squeezing his shoulder. "Once she's recovered from the trauma, she'll wake up."

"And … she'll be okay?"

Silven sighed, her tiny shoulders bowed. "You know I can't give you any guarantees, Obi-Wan," she said. "A minute is a long time for a Nubian to be without oxygen – they don't cope as well with reduced oxygen levels as, say, a Tatooinian. She could wake up and make a full quick recovery – she has youth and strength on her side. But there could easily be motor or nerve damage. And even if she _is_ undamaged she won't wake up instantly alert. This is real life, not a holofilm. She'll be disoriented and incoherent, perhaps frightened and irrational."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Thank you," he said. "I may not like what you said, but I trust you and believe you." He took Padmé's limp hand and squeezed it gently, trying to impart some of his own strength to his lover. "Rest, my love," he murmured over the beeping of the equipment monitoring her. "Rest well and come back to me soon."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Palpatine finished reading the records of Master Kenobi's turbulent childhood with great interest. 'Know your enemy' might be a truism, but it was also an extremely wise and apposite truism. Given up to the Temple at only six weeks of age, the young Obi-Wan had been a hard worker and loyal follower of the Jedi ways, but with a love of mischief that saved him from being horribly priggish.

At thirteen, he had faced transfer to Agricorps, but had been taken as an apprentice by Qui-Gon Jinn at the last minute. Jinn had not wanted another apprentice – after Xanatos' turn to the Dark Side – and had been overly strict with the sensitive young native Coruscanti. Obi-Wan had actually left the Jedi Order for a time to fight with his friends on Melida/Daan, but had returned sadder and more serious. And more determined than ever to prove himself worthy of being a Jedi.

Palpatine's lip curled at that. Why anyone would want to be a Jedi was beyond his ken. Obi-Wan could be so much more – could have the galaxy at his disposal – with the power of the Sith.

_It is done._ He heard Tyranus' voice just as clearly as if the older man had been in the room with him, and he nodded in satisfaction. Kenobi's insecurity and poor self-esteem – hidden from those who thought they knew him – glared out like beacons to Palpatine's Force enhanced senses. He'd made a small dent in Kenobi's composure in their meeting earlier today – a small crack that Amidala's 'illness' would only widen; allowing Palpatine to step in and take control of the powerful young Jedi.

And what an admirable apprentice he would make – strong and loyal, but without the arrogance that was such a fatal flaw in Palpatine's former apprentice, Darth Maul. The Zabrak had assumed that running through the older, more powerful, Qui-Gon Jinn would render the apprentice useless. Instead, Obi-Wan had performed some truly acrobatic feats – bolstered by Jinn who had somehow managed to survive – and had utterly destroyed Maul.

Kenobi had been knighted shortly after the withdrawal of the Federation forces – cowards – and he and Qui-Gon had grown ever closer. It would take a lot of work to tear the two apart – much more than it would have fifteen or twenty years ago – and Palpatine regretted that he hadn't been able to ascend to the status of Chancellor much earlier in Kenobi's life.

But there was no sense in regretting the past. It was immutable, unchangeable. Palpatine could only work in the present for the future that he envisaged. A future where he ruled a Galactic Empire – where humans would be the primary species as they should be, and where the lesser species would serve.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi would be by his side – as student, good Right Hand and eventual successor.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan shuddered slightly, feeling something dark and ominous swirling about in the Force. He withdrew from his meditation – an incomplete experience due to his overriding anxiety about Padmé – and opened his eyes to see his former Master seated in the chair next to his.

"I came as soon as I heard," Qui-Gon said quietly.

The big man was always softly-spoken, yet it seemed in this quiet room that he yelled. And Obi-Wan cringed slightly. "Thank you," he replied just as quietly, appreciating the moral support. As a Jedi, he'd learned to accept death and loss, to embrace and acknowledge it, to make it a part of him rather than something to be buried or denied. Yet the man in love was nearly beside himself with unexpressed fear and anxiety. "If I should lose Padmé now, so soon after we've come together …," he murmured uneasily.

"It would be worse in some respects if you weren't with her," Qui-Gon replied. "At least you won't have any missed or neglected chances to regret."

A shadow appeared on his face and Obi-Wan felt his old friend's sorrow. "You refer to Shmi," he said, a little uncomfortable at prying too far into his former Master's feelings.

"Yes," Qui-Gon responded readily enough. "I never told her how much I cared, and she … died without knowing that she was loved."

"She was Force sensitive," Obi-Wan said, taking his turn at being the comforter. "She knew."

"And Padmé knows how you feel – she doesn't need to be Force sensitive to know that," Qui-Gon replied and clapped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I used to be afraid of bumping into you in case I knocked your heart off your sleeve," he teased.

Obi-Wan surprised himself by letting out a short laugh. "You'll fall in love again some day, Master, and I'll remember this teasing," he threatened.

"I'm sure you will, _Padawan_," Qui-Gon replied then liberated two glasses and a jug of water from a passing droid. He passed Obi-Wan a filled glass. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry," Obi-Wan admitted. He rather thought he might vomit if he tried to eat.

"You know better than that," Qui-Gon chided. "How will starving yourself into sickness help Padmé?"

The man had a point, and Obi-Wan picked up his neglected flatbread, forcing himself to take a bite. Although it tasted like sawdust, he began to feel better – less shaky and nauseated. With a sigh, he gulped down some water then nodded his head when an aide offered him some caf. "Thank you," he murmured then frowned when he heard a loud clamor from just outside.

"News services," Qui-Gon said, a rarely seen black scowl on his face. He heaved himself out of the chair. "They will not bother you or the Senator," he said.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said once more. He had the feeling that if he tried to handle the press right now, he would lose his temper in a spectacular fashion – drawing more unwanted publicity. He knew that his attachment to Padmé was affecting his judgment but, so far, he'd avoided a reprimand from the Jedi Council.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Someone shoved a recording device in Qui-Gon's face and he sidestepped it. "Be quiet," he said sternly. And the babbling crowd stilled immediately – Qui-Gon had learned the art of commanding attention at a young age from Tyln Dooku. "I'll answer a few questions, but no pictures, and you will neither enter the ward nor talk to Master Kenobi or any of the Senator's family."

"What about freedom of the press?" someone complained. "You're abrogating our right to report."

"Yes; I am," Qui-Gon replied pleasantly. "And if you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Chancellor Palpatine."

Qui-Gon and the Chancellor didn't have much in common, but shared a distaste for the sensationalist nature of much of the Republic's news agencies. He resisted the smile that tugged at his lips when the complainant shut his mouth with a snap and physically backed away. "Now; one at a time, please."

"What happened – was the Senator attacked again?" a Twi'lek asked. "Do you suspect the Seps?"

"The Healers are still trying to determine the cause of the Senator's collapse – conjecture is useless at this point," Qui-Gon replied.

"She was dead against a Republic Army – you think someone had her silenced?" a human piped up.

"As I said; conjecture is useless," Qui-Gon reiterated. "The Senator is currently in a light coma after suffering oxygen deprivation – with a coma, it's always a case of wait and see."

"Why're you out here speaking for the Senator?" another human asked. "I know the Senator's involved with one of your fellow Jedi, but I can't see why you're involved."

He obviously wasn't a very good reporter, Qui-Gon decided uncharitably, if he didn't know the connection between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "Master Kenobi isn't just a fellow Jedi – he was once my Padawan and I have the privilege of counting him as a friend."

"So he's running interference for him," someone said softly, touching his arm. Qui-Gon looked down – _way_ down – and smiled at the tiny Healer, Silven. "One more question, only, gentlebeings, and then I must ask you to leave."

The reporters looked at each other then to the two stern Jedi – one large one tiny, yet equally immovable – then appeared to reach consensus. "No more questions … for now," the Twi'lek said, apparently the spokesbeing. His _lekku_ twitched as he smiled at Silven. "Thank you for your time," he added with a brief glance at Qui-Gon. He turned back to Silven, evidently preferring her over Qui-Gon, as the other reporters began to disperse with grumbles. "You're so tiny and adorable," he added with the forthrightness characteristic of his race. "Can I take you out somewhere and get to know you better?"

Silven just smiled slightly – falling in love with and marrying Cody had eradicated much of her timidity around the opposite gender. "Thank you but no," she replied quietly, taking the datapad that an aide handed to her. "My husband wouldn't be too thrilled. Good night." She touched Qui-Gon's arm once more as the Twi'lek tipped her a lazy salute before strolling away. "Could I ask you to keep an eye on Obi-Wan?" she added. "He's a strong man – one of the strongest I've ever known – but even the strongest person has a limit. And I'm worried that Obi-Wan doesn't recognize that."

"Obi-Wan is all too aware of his limits," Qui-Gon said, regretting to this day the part he had inadvertently played in undermining the younger man's self-esteem.

"Yes; but he's also a man very much in love, and his heart may override his good sense," Silven replied. That young innocent face somehow managed to co-exist with one of the oldest wisest souls Qui-Gon had ever encountered. "He'll listen to you when you tell him to rest or …" – she laughed – "if he doesn't you can always sit on him until he does as he's told."

Qui-Gon chuckled at the image then nodded his head. "I'll see that he looks after himself," he said, wondering if she was hinting that he needed to lose weight.

"I know," Silven replied. She yawned delicately. "And now I should be getting home. Cody will be wondering where I am."

"No he won't," the Healer's husband said, walking through the door and nodding at Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn," he offered respectfully. "Could you tell Obi-Wan that I'm thinking about him and I hope the Senator gets well soon?"

"I will; thank you, Commander," Qui-Gon replied, regarding the clone with a new respect. He hadn't had the interaction that Obi-Wan had with the clone troopers and had fought their 'father', for want of a better word, on Geonosis. The clones had been bred for loyalty, obedience and quick reflexes – making them excellent cannon fodder – but friendship and love hadn't been encouraged. Yet it was plain to see that the Commander loved Silven very much and the glow in his eyes matched Silven's.

Silven slipped her hand into her husband's then stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed Qui-Gon's cheek. "Good night, Qui-Gon," she said then tugged at Cody's hand. "Come on then, clone boy; let's go home."

"Yes, O diminutive darling," Cody teased and the couple strolled away.

Qui-Gon chuckled, but was glad to see Silven so happy. She'd always been so timid around males – her near-rape at the age of ten traumatizing her deeply – but she hadn't allowed her fear to stop her finding love. He sighed then made his way back into the ward, sitting down next to Obi-Wan who nursed a cup of caf, staring into it with a deep frown.

"You won't find whatever you seek in that noxious brew," he said, managing to not wrinkle his nose at the smell. In his years, he'd hidden out in swamps, been surrounded by animal droppings, and had had people vomit near or on him, so he was pretty well inured to bad smells by now. Yet there was something distinctly unpleasant about caf that seemed to lodge right in his sinus cavity.

Obi-Wan's head jerked up and he blushed slightly. "Sorry; I was parsecs away," he said.

Qui-Gon looked at his friend's haggard features and got back up, heaving the younger man onto his feet. "You need sleep, Obi-Wan," he declared and hustled him out of the ward. "Silven said you can use the couch in her office if you don't want to go home."

Obi-Wan looked like he was about to protest then bit his lip. "I _am_ tired," he admitted. "This has been a horrible day."

He looked so forlorn that Qui-Gon just _had_ to hug him. "All your friends will support you," he said, "whatever happens."

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, "and I'm very grateful for that. I just hope that 'whatever happens' is a full recovery."

Qui-Gon knew better than to give false assurances – both he and Obi-Wan understood that the Force would make the choice. He settled for patting Obi-Wan's shoulder as the younger man lay on Silven's couch with a heavy sigh. "Good night, Obi-Wan," he said.

"You'll call me …?"

"The instant anything occurs," Qui-Gon assured him. "Now; rest."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan watched as his mentor left the small room and closed his eyes obediently. But rest would not come to him – his mind persisting in finding something to chew on and gnaw at worriedly.

Not only was he terrified that Padmé might die, there was also a part of him that chastised him for his attachment. He'd grown up in the Jedi Temple and had spent his formative years under the no attachments rule. Even though that rule had been lifted more than a decade ago, it still felt … wrong to Obi-Wan that he was so attached to one person.

He would have to watch out for signs that his attachment could take a dark turn. Everyone had darkness within him and Obi-Wan's connection to the Force meant that his turning to the Dark Side would cause a lot of harm. He knew that he wasn't as powerful as Tyln Dooku – the last to leave the Jedi Order – but tasting once of the darkness would set him on a path that he wouldn't be able to leave. Qui-Gon had almost given in to the darkness during the fight at the palace in Theed, and he struggled against it every day.

The door opened and Obi-Wan squinted against the painfully bright light. "Yes?" he asked, getting up quickly.

"The Senator's waking up," the aide told him. "She won't be coherent yet, but I know you'll want to be with her."

"Yes; thank you," Obi-Wan replied.

His head spun slightly, resenting his sudden upright position, and the aide patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion. "I'll get you something to eat, young man – I don't want you taking a bed next to the Senator."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, and then made his way back to the ward to Padmé's bedside. He took her hand and squeezed it. "Padmé; welcome back," he said.

Her eyelids fluttered. "Mmm …," she mumbled. "Wha …" Her free hand flapped around her face, trying to dislodge the breathing aid. "Don't … no!" A tear leaked out. "Wha …"

Then her eyes closed once more as if that small movement had been too much for her. Obi-Wan – moved by her distress – looked up at an aide. "Can she do without the aid?" he asked, indicating the tubing in Padmé's nose.

"Not yet I'm afraid," the aide replied. "She needs to be fully conscious before we can risk removing the tube." She handed Obi-Wan a cup of broth with several slices of flatbread. "Eat up, young man – she may wake up again soon. She's made a good start even with the disorientation."

"She was so scared," Obi-Wan said. "I've never seen her like that."

"A breathing tube doesn't naturally belong in a human's nose," the aide said. "It's invasive and not particularly comfortable. The fact that she was aware of it and wanted it out is a good sign."

"All right," said Obi-Wan, trusting in the aide's greater experience.

Padmé's eyelids fluttered open once more and her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Knight Kenobi … wha' you doing here?" she slurred, her hand going up to tug at the breathing tube.

Obi-Wan caught at her hand. "Go back to sleep, Padmé," he said, wondering at the 'Knight Kenobi' remark. It had been several years since his Knight rank had changed to Master. He hoped that the seeming memory loss was just a temporary confusion and not indicative of brain damage.

Padmé regarded him, frown still in place. "You got bossy all of a sudden," she complained around a yawn. Obi-Wan managed not to smile at the smart remark – the Padmé he knew and loved was still in there somewhere. "Still … makes sense. Sleepy …" She lifted her hand and patted his cheek. "Don't like the beard," she opined then closed her eyes once more.

The aide wasn't as restrained as Obi-Wan and gave a small laugh as she measured Padmé's blood pressure. "Well, consider yourself told, Master Kenobi," she said, the twinkle in her eye making her look years younger.

Obi-Wan smiled at that and rubbed his chin – now covered with a fine growth. Although not overly hirsute, his hair always grew quickly and it wouldn't be long before he had the full beard back.

He yawned – all of a sudden incredibly sleepy – and the aide put her hand on his shoulder. "Right, young man; it's off to bed for you," she said sternly. "I've received instructions that you are to be looked after and woe betide me if I don't."

"Silven?" Obi-Wan asked idly, allowing the matronly woman to steer him back to the Healer's office.

"Your friend, Master Jinn." A blush covered the woman's cheeks. "He seems like such a nice man – is he … involved with anyone?"

And yet another female had fallen for the older man's calm and caring nature. Obi-Wan would have been shocked to know how many people fell for _his_ sweet, unassuming manner. "Umm …," he said, not at all comfortable with this question. Qui-Gon was not involved with anyone – nor did he want to be.

"I'm sorry, Master Kenobi – that was terribly inappropriate," the woman said now. "You're a Jedi and Jedi don't gossip."

Obi-Wan nodded his head, seizing on the uninformed supposition. The rumor mill at the Temple was just as efficient as any tight-knit community's, although the gossip was usually a lot more respectful than who was involved with whom. "That's all right," he managed around another yawn.

He lay down on the couch and the aide pulled a light throw over him before patting his shoulder. "I'll call you when she's a bit more coherent," the aide promised.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied. He closed his eyes and settled down with a sigh.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

A touch to his shoulder awoke Obi-Wan from the light yet restful sleep he'd managed to achieve. Blinking in the sudden light, he looked up to see Qui-Gon towering above him. "Master," he said sleepily, wondering briefly if he was late for class. Then the disorientation lifted and he shot to his feet. "Padmé?"

"She's awake and asking for you," Qui-Gon said. "She's barricaded herself in the fresher and won't come out."

And there was the disorientation that Silven had spoken of. "Barricaded …?"

"She thinks the Healers are trying to kill her," Qui-Gon said, striding with his former pupil to the ward. "She trusts me but wants you there."

Obi-Wan stepped into the ward, wending his way through the healers, aides, patients and spectators. He knocked on the door to the fresher. "Padmé … it's me, Obi-Wan."

"Obi?" Her voice sounded young and tremulous. The door opened a crack and a head of tumbled curls inched out. Then she grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist and hauled him into the fresher with surprising strength. "Don't let them hurt me, Obi!" she pleaded. "They keep looking at me – make them go away," she gasped, her entire body shaking.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure that he should feed her delusion, but she needed to be back in bed. He put his arms around her slight body. "They won't hurt you, Padmé," he promised, frowning at the slight sensation of wetness. He pulled his arm away and rubbed at the blood then looked at Padmé's arm. In her fright she'd dislodged the intravenous tubing and had ruptured a vein. "But you've hurt yourself," he added, lifting up the abused arm. "May I bandage it?"

Padmé looked at her arm like she'd never seen it before. "Oh," she said vaguely. "How did I do that? Was I climbing trees again? Sola's always scolding me for doing that – she thinks she's my mother or something," she added with a very childish pout.

Obi-Wan rooted in the small medkit in the fresher then proceeded to wrap the wound. Padmé watched with interest. "You're awfully nice," she offered. "Do you work here as well as at the Temple?" Then she frowned. "No; you're not a Healer," she added. "Why am I saying stupid things, Obi?" she added tearfully. "What's happened to me?"

"We're not sure," Obi-Wan replied, wondering how much explanation she'd understand and retain. "There was an emergency com call from a small shop in Coco Town saying that you'd passed out."

"Oh," Padmé replied disinterestedly, and then looked around. "Where's my family?"

"They're on their way," Obi-Wan told her. "It's a long trip from Naboo, but they should be here in a few days."

Padmé didn't seem to be paying attention. "They're still out there," she said urgently. "You promise you won't let them hurt me?" she pleaded.

"I promise," Obi-Wan said patiently. "I'd never let anyone hurt you."

Padmé took his hand. "You have big hands," she observed. "Big hands and a big heart." Then she put her free hand to her forehead. "My head hurts," she complained.

"I can get you something for that," Obi-Wan said, his own head aching in sympathy. The door opened and an aide appeared, hypodermic in hand.

Padmé gasped and yanked free, pressing herself up against the wall. "You said you wouldn't hurt me!" she cried. "You _promised_!"

"Padmé …" Obi-Wan extended his hand to her, but she cringed away.

"Get away from me!" she sobbed pitifully. "You promised me – I thought you loved me but you're just like those kriffing Seps!" She flailed wildly when Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around her, immobilizing her long enough for the aide to give the sedative. "I trusted you …," she slurred, a tear slipping down her cheek as her eyelids closed.

Obi-Wan gathered her slight form up. "Let's get her back into bed," he said to the aide, who sported a magnificent bruise on his cheekbone. "I wish there'd been an easier way, but she really needs to sleep."

"Agreed," the burly aide said, touching his cheek gingerly. "She's terrified and that's given her extra strength. She packs an amazing punch for one so small."

"That's nothing to do with fear," Obi-Wan said, recalling some of their playful fights that had left him bruised. "Those tiny little fists are very hard. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

The aide shook his head. "It's all part of the job," he said. "I love my work and wouldn't change it for the galaxy."

Padmé sighed slightly as the aide pulled the sheet over her but didn't move. Obi-Wan sat down next to her bed and took her hand, then concentrated and sent a Force sleep suggestion. "Good night, Padmé," he said gently. "I love you."

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Good gods … who had driven nails into her skull? Padmé lifted her hand to her aching head, wondering at the tugging sensations and the sting. She opened her eye tentatively and realized that she was in a med ward. Lovely.

Then she saw Obi-Wan perched on a chair near her, his head down near his chest as he slept. Her own neck ached for him then she reached out to touch his arm. "Obi …," she croaked. Gods she was dry!

His head shot up and something flashed through his eyes before the calm Jedi mask settled over his features. "Padmé," he said, getting to his feet. "Can I get you some water?"

"Mmm," Padmé agreed. She tried to sit up and gasped when the small movement caused her head to pound.

"Impatience," Obi-Wan chided. He slipped his arms around her, lifting her up slightly, and then pushed a bolster under her. "Better?" he asked.

"Throat sore," she got out then scowled down at the intravenous tubing in her arm. Well, _that_ didn't belong in her. She extended a shaky hand for the water but Obi-Wan cupped the back of her head and tilted the glass to her lips. "Thanks," she murmured, absurdly exhausted by that small effort. She was so tired she just wanted to cry, but she wouldn't – not in a public place like this med ward. "What happened?" she asked instead.

"You collapsed in a dress shop in Coco Town," Obi-Wan said. "You've been in and out of consciousness for the last three days."

"Oh," Padmé replied, not sure what to say to that. It did explain the headache though. She put her hand to her head once more and felt something strange and bristly. "My hair …," she exclaimed.

"They had to shave it off to attach the sensors," Obi-Wan said.

"My hair." Padmé felt a tear slip down her cheek. It was ridiculous but she felt like she'd lost part of herself. "It'll grow back," she said as normally as she could then swiped at yet another tear. "Oh, kriff; what's the _matter_ with me?" she asked with a tearful laugh. "I'm acting like a baby."

"You've gone through a very traumatic experience," Obi-Wan said. "I know you don't like it, but you'll have to be patient and give yourself time to heal."

_Said__ the man that made escaping from a med ward an art form_, Padmé grumbled to herself. Yet she had to admit to relief when Obi helped her to lie flat once more. She was absolutely undone.

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A fearsome scowl marred the Chancellor's usually benign mien as he emerged from his meditation. Amidala was already on the road to recovery – if she recovered this quickly, he would never have the chance to turn Obi-Wan. She was Nubian, just like Palpatine – being deprived of oxygen even for a very short time was far more serious for them than for other carbon-based life.

He was tempted to pinch her throat closed – and do a better job than Tyranus – but knew that would raise too many suspicions. Instead, he focused his thoughts on one of his acolytes, currently serving as an aide. He instructed the aide to reduce the potency of the sedative being given to Amidala by just 1%. Barely noticeable in the tubes, but the constant pain and fatigue caused by the reduced dosage would hinder the young woman's recovery. She'd be more inclined to lash out – as she already had a few days ago – and Obi-Wan would bear the brunt of it and need someone to talk to. He likely wouldn't be comfortable discussing his fears with Qui-Gon Jinn – not wanting his former Master to see him as weak – and the Chancellor intended to fill that void. It would take time – he was well aware that young Kenobi didn't trust him – but with patience and finesse, Palpatine would be able to exploit the Jedi's love for the Senator.

He had no intention of killing the Senator – her resistance to a Republic army and many of Palpatine's ideas suited his purpose … for now. He wanted the galaxy divided and weakened by war. Once the time was right and he had sufficient control over the Senate and the Jedi … then he would see his dreams of Empire come true, and dispose of Amidala. It might take a year, it might take ten, but he was determined that it would happen. He would be Emperor Palpatine.

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In a quiet room in a Republic hospital, a big young man stiffened then nodded his head in obedience to the unvoiced – yet clearly heard – command. _As you will it, Master_, he thought, _so shall it be._

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**Several days later:**

Padmé frowned at the aide that had come to supervise her exercises, designed to help her gain command over her uncooperative limbs. "I'm too tired," she complained. And, indeed, she _was_ tired – so tired she wanted to cry.

The aide – a relentlessly cheery giant of a human – shook his head and lifted Padmé out of the bed and into the wheeled chair. "You may be stubborn, Senator, but you've met your match in me," he proclaimed.

Scowling when Obi-Wan chuckled, Padmé subsided and allowed the aide to transport her to what she'd come to think of as the 'torture chamber' over the last couple of days. In that room was a veritable array of equipment all designed to help people regain control over recalcitrant limbs or to develop new control in the case of limbs that would never work again. Paralysis was rare nowadays – neurosurgery having made great strides in the last hundred years – but it was still seen.

The aide – what was his name again? – lifted her out of the wheeled chair and placed her gently on a small bed. She flinched when the hard bed met her tender back, everything hurting her lately, and he gave her a small apologetic smile. "I wish I could do more for your pain, Senator," he said, "but we can't risk giving you more painkillers."

That was a point with which Padmé agreed wholeheartedly. The things made her feel fuzzy and slightly nauseated – she certainly didn't want a stronger dose. "I've been in pain before," she said. "I can handle it."

A worried look appeared on the aide's face. "You shouldn't have to 'handle it'," he said. "But you are making progress in regaining control over those legs, even if you can't see it."

Padmé resisted the urge to pat his head – there was something rather young and sweet about him, in spite of his monstrous size. She sighed and girded herself as the therapist – a multi-limbed Besalisk – came into the room. "And here's the sadist," she grumbled. There were times that she realized how petty and brattish she was being, but most of the time she just couldn't bring herself to care. She was exhausted, everything hurt and she didn't even have command of her own body. That entitled her to be a little grumpy.

The Besalisk chuckled. "I've dealt with far worse patients than you, Senator," she said. "If Master Jinn couldn't put me off my work, you certainly won't be able to."

Padmé was distracted from her self-pity. "You've treated Qui-Gon?" When had he been so injured that he required the services of a physical therapist?

"A long time ago," the Besalisk replied. "You know I can't discuss my individual patients, but let's just say he was even more cranky and uncooperative than you … and he's awfully big for a human. If he didn't want to move it took a lot of work to get him moving."

Padmé had to chuckle at that, picturing the battle of wills between the large Besalisk and the notoriously stubborn Qui-Gon Jinn. She hadn't realized she was being such a nuisance and felt momentarily guilty. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm not usually such a horrible person."

"But you _are_ stubborn," Obi-Wan opined, appearing at that moment with a gourd of water.

Padmé rolled her eyes, annoyed at the comment. "This from the man that wrote the manual on stubborn."

"Well, thank you, milady." Obi-Wan feigned hurt feelings. "And to think I brought this water because I know how thirsty the therapy makes you."

Padmé sighed, not in the mood for his sarcasm. "Give me the water, Jedi, or die."

Obi-Wan chuckled, annoying her further. "I'm shaking," he replied blandly.

Padmé scowled. "If all you're here for is to get on my nerves, go away," she snapped. Why did he think her being in pain was a source of amusement?

Obi-Wan regarded her thoughtfully and seemed to realize she was deadly serious. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'll leave if you really wish it."

"Do what you want; you will anyway," Padmé grumbled unjustly. All she wanted was to be back in her warm comfortable bed, sleeping. In her dreams she was free from pain and able to move – her dreams were a nice place to be; far better than reality.

Obi-Wan frowned. "May we be left alone for a few minutes?" he asked the therapist.

"Of course," the Besalisk replied.

She left and Obi-Wan turned back to Padmé. "I know you're in pain and exhausted, but treating me like something you'd scrape off your shoe isn't going to make you feel any better," he told her.

Padmé blinked, taken slightly aback. She'd never considered Obi-Wan a pushover, but his sweet nature occasionally made her forget his strength. But she wasn't about to give in. "If you don't like who I am, leave," she snapped. "I'm not going to change who I am just to suit some man."

"And no-one's asking you to," Obi-Wan snapped right back. "But if you keep pushing people away, you'll be alone."

"Perhaps I want that," Padmé snarled. The rational part of her was screaming foul epithets at her right now, but her anger seemed to have a far louder voice.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm not talking to you when you're this irrational," he said. "But neither am I walking away permanently. You mean too much to me and I know I mean too much to you."

"Someone has an awfully good opinion of himself," Padmé said nastily, blinking as her vision swam and her head began throbbing. She couldn't even have a fight with her lover without her body betraying her!

Obi-Wan scowled. "You're being a child – when you're ready to talk like the rational adult I know and love, I can be reached at the Temple."

She'd never seen him so angry before, and the rational part of her protested her actions once more. But then another wave of pain engulfed her. "So go," she said. "But don't think I'm going to call you – I've got more self-respect than to call some _male_ begging for a second chance."

Obi-Wan's usually light-tan complexion paled and his eyes appeared unusually bright. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I won't cling to you if you truly wish to be free," he said quietly, with dignity. "But nor am I willing to let you foolishly throw away our wonderful relationship in the heat of anger," he added firmly.

_Tell him you're sorry; that you didn't mean it!_, Padmé's rational part screamed. But Padmé had always been stubborn, and that stubbornness was doing her no favors right now. "Well, that's not up to you, now is it?" she replied mockingly, taking malicious pleasure in hurting him. "Go back to your Temple, Master Kenobi – I'll see you around."

Any other male would have called her a variety of horrible names by now. Obi-Wan was above that kind of behavior but his lips tightened. "Good day, Senator," he replied formally before turning away with a swirl of brown robes.

Padmé's jaw dropped. He was walking out on her? So much for his professed love. She grabbed the gourd and flung it at him. "Get out!" she screamed as the missile crashed into the wall mere inches from his head.

He flinched slightly when one of the shards struck him, much to her pleasure, but kept on walking. "Horrible, selfish man," she fumed and scowled fiercely when the therapist walked back in. "And you can forget therapy," she added, ringing the bell to summon the giant aide. "Take me back to my bed," she ordered imperiously.

The aide looked at the therapist, who nodded her head. Wise creature. The giant human gathered Padmé into his arms once more and took her back to the med ward. "Short session," he commented mildly.

"Shut up," Padmé ordered, calling on all her Senatorial dignity.

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Obi-Wan blinked furiously as the tears threatened. He knew that Padmé hadn't meant the horrible vicious words she'd flung at him, yet they'd hurt nonetheless. She was in pain and exhausted, not making the progress that her stubborn will dictated she should be making – and that frustrated her. But he was a human with human frailties – not some perfect being. And right now that man was just as angry and frustrated as the woman he loved.

Perhaps some space would be a good thing, he mused. He couldn't afford for his attachment to twist his mind – his anger was a live thing right now and it would be so easy to give in to it. But once he trod that path he would never be able to leave it. The Dark Side was easy, seductive, beckoning with sweet promises from luscious lips. Obi-Wan set his jaw firmly, closed his eyes and visualized his anger as a physical thing. Then he acknowledged it, mastered it, and locked it away.

"Master Kenobi – is everything all right?"

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, feeling much better, and saw a young Padawan standing in front of him, looking at him curiously. "No, but it will be," he replied. "Is there something I can do for you, Padawan?"

"Masters Jinn, Windu and Yoda have asked me to find you," the Padawan, a large-eyed Mon Calamari, told him. "They wish you to report to them in the Council chamber."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, returning the Padawan's polite dip of the head.

"You're bleeding," the Mon Calamari then said, handing Obi-Wan a handkerchief and indicating the side of her own scaled head.

"Oh," Obi-Wan replied, now aware of a slight stinging sensation from where the pottery shard had struck him. He'd always known that Padmé had a temper, but she'd never vented it in such a vicious way before. He dabbed at the small wound, flinching at the sensation, and then handed the handkerchief back to the Padawan. "And thank you again," he added.

"You're welcome, Master Kenobi," the Mon Cal acknowledged, dipped her head and then made her way into a nearby eatery where a number of youths greeted her raucously. Obi-Wan smiled slightly – remembering his own noisy youth – then hailed a passing swoop transport and made his way back to the Temple.

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Qui-Gon Jinn wore a rather fierce scowl and tried to modify it, aware of Yoda's disapproval. "I don't like it, Master," he said. "Obi-Wan is strong, but he's not invincible. And he's especially vulnerable at the moment with the Senator's illness."

"Do his duty Kenobi will," Yoda retorted. "Aware of this he is – a good obedient Jedi he has always been."

_Not always_, Qui-Gon thought, recalling how Obi-Wan had disobeyed Qui-Gon's order not to get personally involved with the trouble on Melida/Daan. The young man had actually left the Order for some time. Upon his return, however, he became more thoughtful and obedient – although not to the point of blindness. In fact, he was far less rebellious nowadays than Qui-Gon.

Mace leaned over slightly, the lights glinting off his shaven head. "Palpatine has always had an interest in Obi-Wan – ever since the Naboo blockade – and seems to have taken him into his confidence lately." He frowned. "The man has somehow managed to remain in power long past his natural term – no-one even offered a challenge at the last election. And some of the mandates that he's trying to push through Senate pose a threat to the Republic's constitution. We need to investigate him and, like it or not, Obi-Wan is our best means of doing so."

"Agreed to this you already have," Yoda put in. "So why now belabor the point?"

Silenced by the stern rebuke, Qui-Gon sat back in his chair and waited for his former Padawan to arrive. Yet he couldn't shake the discomfort he felt at what they were going to ask of the young Coruscanti.

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Obi-Wan stared at the three members of the Jedi Council. He'd undertaken any number of unpleasant tasks during his years as a Padawan, then a Knight and now a Master, but this had to be one of the most unpleasant. How could he befriend a man he neither liked nor trusted? Yet many of Palpatine's actions in the last few years – when put together – nibbled at the fabric of the Republic. Bit by bit it seemed the Chancellor was sacrificing people's liberty for the promise of security. It was an age old story – too many dictatorships had started out 'in the people's best interests' and Obi-Wan had no intention of seeing the Republic descend into tyranny.

"I'll do it, Masters," he said. "I can't understand why he has such a high opinion of me, but if I can use that to learn more about his motives then I should."

Qui-Gon smiled inexplicably and shook his head. "We hoped you'd agree," he said gravely, "but this isn't an order – please understand that."

"There's no question in my mind," Obi-Wan replied, wondering about that bemused, oddly fond, smile on his former Master's lips. "And I believe I know how to begin too." He smiled at Qui-Gon. "The Chancellor has referred a number of times to what he has called 'our difficult beginning' – if I start to confide in him, it'll only increase his trust in me."

"Yes," Yoda agreed. "Play on his interest you should – encourage his false belief that distant you and Qui-Gon have become."

"Make more out of your altercation with the Senator," Mace added. "The Chancellor knows the old rule against attachments and the reasons for it – and that it doesn't take much for a Jedi to come under suspicion of an unhealthy attachment."

"If I confide some fears about Padmé and imply that I don't want Qui-Gon to know …"

Mace nodded his shiny head. "Precisely. Palpatine is a master manipulator and he will seize his opportunity to get into your head as it were. You're far stronger than he realizes but he'll try to play on your fears."

"Recognize his attempts for what they are," Qui-Gon cautioned. "I'll be heading back to the _Tantiv II_ in a couple of days – that will leave a hole for Palpatine to fill in his eyes. You may have to spend quite a lot of time in his company for the foreseeable future." His eyes twinkled suddenly. "Can you do that without running him through with your saber?"

Obi-Wan returned the mischievous smile. "For you, Master, I'll attempt to control myself," he replied sarcastically.

"Go now you should, young Kenobi," Yoda interjected. "For some time meditate you should, with your troubles come to terms and tomorrow return to us refreshed."

Obi-Wan hadn't realized he was so transparent. "Yes, Master," he replied, abashed.


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

Obi-Wan walked slowly along the busy streets near the Senate and Chancellory buildings, which he derisively dubbed 'Politics Central', and then started out of his reverie when he saw the small timid woman that served as Palpatine's aide. "Good day," he said politely.

She blushed and ducked her head. "Good day, Master Kenobi," she murmured.

And, once again, Obi-Wan wondered how someone so timid had come so far in the world of politics. Aide to the Chancellor was no mean feat. "Were you looking for me?" he asked now.

The young woman looked up and smiled briefly, fleetingly – her smile just as timid as she. "Yes," she said. "The Chancellor would like to invite you to dine with him tonight," she added then gave a larger smile. "There are days when he tires of politicking he confessed to me, and you keep his feet firmly planted in the soil."

Obi-Wan had seen no evidence of that, yet it was true that the Chancellor was trying to befriend him. With his secret mission in mind, he realized that this was the perfect opportunity to begin his surveillance of the man's activities. "Please tell the Chancellor that I'd be honored to attend," he said. "What time?"

"I'll arrange for a transport for you at seven tonight," the aide said. She ducked her head once more as if the strain of looking at Obi-Wan for more than a few seconds had overwhelmed her.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied then, just as the aide was about to depart, he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. "If I'm to dine with the Chancellor tonight, I believe I should know the name of the person that arranged it."

"Oh. Reela," the woman replied, her cheeks flushing once more. Her eyes skittered over Obi-Wan's face and the blush heated up. "Well … good day, Master Kenobi," she added.

"Good day, Reela," Obi-Wan replied, bowed slightly and then walked away once more.

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The Chancellor resisted the urge to smile as Reela timidly reported her success, blushing at the mere mention of the Knight's name. Her timidity and propensity for blushing hid a razor-sharp mind and a keen grasp of the politics in which the Chancellor was mired. He nurtured a small fond hope that he could persuade her to run in the next election as a junior Senator for the Chommell Sector. Then, once his dream of Empire was fulfilled, he would have someone in the perfect position to oust the senior Senator, Padmé Amidala.

"You _are_ aware of the fact that he's involved with Senator Amidala, aren't you?" he teased lightly, playing the part of the grandfather figure that the young orphan craved so badly.

As if on cue, Reela blushed again but didn't resist the urge to confide in the Chancellor. He'd become the audience for her youthful hopes and dreams over the last year. "I know," she replied, "and I wouldn't know what to do even if he _were_ available." She pulled a face. "You're the only male I can talk to without feeling like an idiot."

"You're a very pretty young woman," Palpatine offered in a fatherly fashion. "You certainly have no need to fear rejection. You should come to the dinner tonight – it's been too long since I've enjoyed your company in a less formal setting, and you'll get to spend time with a handsome young Jedi instead of being stuck with a crusty old politician."

His Force-enhanced senses detected the softening in her eyes; she really cared for him. It was a pity that she was completely Force null – someone so loyal and attached would be a perfect Right Hand. But then again, she was the perfect foil for him as she was; giving him a grandfatherly aspect that lent him an almost benign mien.

Still; she hesitated and he realized that she was nervous at the idea of socializing with Master Kenobi. She'd spent many a pleasant evening with Palpatine and occasionally some of his most trusted associates, so it certainly wasn't him. "You can say 'no', my dear," he added. "You deserve a night away from politicking."

She gave a warm smile that startled Palpatine – it seemed that even a Sith Lord wasn't immune to an attractive young woman's appeal. "So do you," she replied. "I think I'd like a night off – and I know you enjoy Master Kenobi's company without an aide hanging around."

"Another time then," Palpatine said. "Perhaps with more of us, though, so you have some more people to talk to – maybe some other young folk." Young people generally held little interest for the Sith Lord – their minds uninformed, their opinions coarse and shallow – but Reela and Obi-Wan were quite different.

Reela smiled slightly. "Another time," she agreed and then seized his cup. "May I get you some _kevas_ while I'm brewing?" she added.

"Thank you, my dear," Palpatine replied.

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**That evening:**

Obi-Wan stepped out of the groundcar – an antiquated and expensive, if charming, means of transport – and nodded to the aide that had held the door open for him. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, Master Kenobi," the aide replied. "If you'll follow me, sir; the Chancellor is waiting for you in his residence."

Obi-Wan followed the aide through the grand residence – the building itself was old and beautiful, but the decorations were far too ostentatious for his simple tastes. And even within his own residence there were multiple pictures of the Chancellor. Obi-Wan shook his head at the rampant egotism then pasted a pleasant expression on his face when a door opened and the Chancellor himself came out to greet him. "Good evening, Chancellor," he said.

"Good evening, Obi-Wan … may I call you Obi-Wan?" the Chancellor replied.

Evidently he still wished to befriend Obi-Wan. He widened his eyes slightly then dropped his head as if slightly overwhelmed or flattered. "Of course," he said. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," the Chancellor said then nodded to the aide. "Thank you, Baris – that will be all," he added. "Go home and see your new baby."

The aide smiled, lightening his dour features. "Thank you, sir – good night," he replied then made a smart about-face and left.

"May I offer you something to drink, Obi-Wan?" the Chancellor inquired, taking Obi-Wan's arm and drawing him into a living area that was decorated in a far less showy fashion than the rest of the residence. Obi-Wan's eyes widened – this time in genuine surprise. What a difference between the two areas! And which one was the real Chancellor Palpatine?

"Oh … uh … _kevas_ would be nice," he said stupidly, trying to get the two images of the man to mesh. There was always more than one aspect to a person, he reminded himself.

Palpatine chuckled. "Yes; this room is far more to your tastes than the rest of the residence, isn't it?" he said.

Obi-Wan nodded, no longer surprised by the man's perspicacity.

Palpatine just smiled and rang an old-fashioned metal bell. "The rest of the residence was designed for Chancellor Kriok a hundred years ago when tastes were far more ornate – it has become custom to leave it in that style as a tribute to him, but I insisted on having something Nubian and more suited to myself for my inner residence."

Looking around the living area, Obi-Wan realized that it did indeed remind him of the beautiful old home at which he'd stayed recently in Varykino. "It's lovely – very restful," he said.

Palpatine smiled – this time looking satisfied. "I'm glad you think so," he said. "With everything that's been going on lately, we all need somewhere that we can rest and simply be – without politics, war and domestic troubles hanging over our heads."

"Mmm," Obi-Wan agreed, sensing an opening. "You're right there, but it isn't always easy to get away from one's troubles."

"No," Palpatine replied, "and running away from them does no good for they'll just follow you. But a little time away, time to think and rest, is vital. Otherwise troubles will overwhelm you until that's all you can see."

"Is that why you invited me to dine tonight?" Obi-Wan asked impulsively then bit his lip. Had he played his hand too soon? He'd never been very good at subterfuge.

Palpatine merely smiled and nodded his head. "For both of us, Obi-Wan," he said. "You can use a break from Jedi politics and I can certainly use one from Republic politics."

"Jedi aren't politicians," Obi-Wan argued.

"No; not in that sense," Palpatine agreed. "But in any community there will always be politics." He chuckled. "Your politics are simply far less cut-throat than the Senate's," he added.

The man made a good point. "I hadn't thought about it like that," Obi-Wan said then smiled at the aide that brought them their drinks. "Thank you," he added to the aide.

This aide – an oddly unattractive Twi'lek – nodded his head, his _lekku_ flopping about in a manner that reminded Obi-Wan of the Gungan, Jar Jar Binks. "You're welcome," he replied then nodded to the Chancellor. "I'll be next door, sir," he added.

"I'm afraid the _kevas_ won't be as good tonight," the Chancellor said, leaning over to pour two cups of the fragrant brew. "I gave Reela the night off and she makes the best _kevas_ out of everyone on my staff." He gave a smile that appeared fond yet it seemed slightly false to Obi-Wan. "At her level, she should delegate that task to one of my other staff, but she seems to think that I need looking after." He gave a chuckle. "It's a shame in some ways that you're already attached, Obi-Wan – Reela likes you very much and she would look after you very well."

Well, that explained Reela's discomfort around him. "If she's as sweet as you think, I'm sure she'll find someone," Obi-Wan said, going a slight pink. "And I would never become involved with someone simply so that they could 'look after me'."

"No; you're too honest for that," the Chancellor agreed, taking a sip of his _kevas_. "This tastes like Reela's _kevas_ – she must have left very strict instructions with my staff for tonight." He gave another chuckle. "I never had children, but I confess that I'm fond of that young lady – she's becoming the grandchild I never had."

The words and the tone were both loving, yet Obi-Wan still felt unease around the man. He'd gathered so much power unto himself; no-one had opposed him in the recent elections and there were people that openly feared him – good people.

The Chancellor gave a sigh and nodded to Obi-Wan's cup. "Anyway; enough of an old man's regrets. I've been very remiss in not asking how Senator Amidala fares."

"She's recovering," Obi-Wan said, "but it's looking like a slow process. She's in so much pain and her limbs don't want to work. That frustrates her very much." He took a sip of the _kevas_.

"Yes; I can imagine," the Chancellor replied. "Even when she was Queen, she wasn't renowned for her patience. She always had to be taking action." He smiled. "You must have seen some of that attitude during your detour on Tatooine all those years ago."

Obi-Wan laughed, remembering the small serving girl facing off against the large Qui-Gon Jinn. "Indeed," he said, "but she spent far more time with Master Jinn than she did with me – that would have been a battle of wills."

The Chancellor laughed – this one actually sounding genuine. "Yes; your former Master is notorious for his stubbornness, although he seems to have calmed down a little since his admission to the Jedi Council." He gave a sigh. "I was pleased by his elevation – he thinks very differently to most of the Jedi Council and that can't hurt at a time like this. Perhaps you will be joining him soon?"

Obi-Wan blushed. "Not for a long time, if at all," he replied. "I'm very different to Qui-Gon; if the Council seeks in me what they see in him, they're doomed to disappointment." He'd long ago come to terms with how different he was to his Master – different not necessarily being bad – but for the sake of his mission he made himself sound a little wistful.

"I know Jedi don't usually suffer inferiority complexes," Palpatine commented, "and most people that feel inferior are correct – they _aren't_ as good as other people. But you have no need to think that way, my young Jedi friend. Why do you think you and Qui-Gon work together so well? Because you complement each other. You keep Qui-Gon from giving in to his impulses and he keeps you from worrying about a future that may never happen."

Yes. The Living Force and the Unifying Force. Obi-Wan smiled up at the Chancellor. "Mmm," he agreed. "But" – here he dropped his voice to sound as if he were initiating a confidence – "as close as I am to Qui-Gon in many ways, there are some things I just can't discuss with him."

"You need friends outside the Jedi Order," Palpatine said. "I know of course about your friendship with that giant spacer Dex, but is there anyone else in whom you can confide?"

Padmé for most things, Obi-Wan thought. And Kila was rapidly becoming a confidant too – even sharing some of her own hopes and troubles with Obi-Wan. "I hadn't really thought about it," he lied, wondering about the scorn in Palpatine's voice when he pronounced Dex's name.

"Of course you haven't," the Chancellor laughed. "Everyone needs someone to talk to, my young friend – even a strong Jedi such as yourself has fears and hopes that he needs to voice."

"Yes, but … voicing them to the wrong people could cause trouble – and why burden people unnecessarily?" Obi-Wan objected, sipping his _kevas_. "Why should my problem become someone else's problem?"

"You're a stubborn man, Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Chancellor said, finishing his _kevas_. His eyes twinkled. "It's easy to see Master Jinn's influence on you."

Obi-Wan smiled at that. Qui-Gon and Padmé had often accused him of stubbornness – when they could out-stubborn him any day of the week. "Well, thank you, Chancellor," he replied. If it wasn't for his mission and his long-held distrust for this man, he could actually enjoy this evening. The Chancellor was clever, witty and insightful – and he had a teasing sense of humor that Obi-Wan would never have suspected.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Lord Sidious finished the last of his _kevas_, observing the shifting emotions on the young Knight's face. Slowly but surely, Obi-Wan was coming to trust him – it wouldn't happen quickly, of course, but Sidious could see that he would become the confidant for Kenobi's hopes and fears, particularly where Senator Amidala was concerned. Despite the ending of the no attachments rule, much of the Jedi Council still disapproved of their members forming attachments – and some of the hardliners actively distrusted Obi-Wan, who had not only sought out his birth family but had also fallen in love.

Whilst Qui-Gon was far less intolerant of emotions than many of his fellow Council members – he'd been one of the first to openly support the ending of the no attachments rule – his role as Obi-Wan's teacher would likely mean that Obi-Wan wouldn't be comfortable discussing his problems with Amidala. And Obi-Wan's other friend, that waitress at Dex's, was shy and inexperienced in matters of the heart – she would have no words of wisdom for Obi-Wan. As for that sister … she was flighty and scattered, too intent on her fleshly pleasures to be sympathetic with the serious, steady young Jedi.

Sidious knew an awful lot about Obi-Wan – knew of his friends, his family, his struggles to become what he saw as the 'ideal Jedi' – and his knowledge would serve him well as he worked to bring Obi-Wan over to the Sith. And it would take work, too; he held no illusions about that. But an easy conversion _from_ the Light Side could also mean an easy conversion _back to_ the Light Side. Obi-Wan was intensely loyal and his conversion would cause shockwaves in the Galaxy far beyond anything seen before.

Then Sidious and his good Right Hand would make the Galaxy over into Sidious' vision; no more endless Senate debates, no more Jedi Council interfering, no more inferior alien beings cluttering up Coruscant with their alien ways and – his lip curled – their alien smells. Coruscant would be a shining bastion for the many humans in this galaxy that had lost out to alien interlopers.

"Chancellor; is everything all right?" Obi-Wan inquired.

Sidious looked up at that question and put a small smile onto his face. "I apologize, Obi-Wan," he said. "I wished tonight to be free of politicking, but this morning's Senate session was so unproductive I remain troubled by it."

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled. "There are times I believe that the word 'Senate' is synonymous with 'unproductive'," he remarked, much to Sidious' amusement. He poured himself another cup of _kevas_ and motioned with the pot to Sidious' cup.

Sidious nodded and let out a genuine laugh – the younger man's sarcastic wit would be most enjoyable once he became Sidious' apprentice. "Indeed, my boy, indeed," he replied. Obi-Wan trusted very few members of the Galactic Senate – indeed; Sidious could only name Amidala and Bail Organa. And Sidious shared Obi-Wan's distrust of the Senate, although for entirely different reasons. Much of the Senate was weak and self-serving, and while that suited Sidious' purpose for now, they would be swept away like so much flotsam with the rise of the new order.

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**Several hours later:**

Obi-Wan emerged from Palpatine's residence and got into the transport awaiting him, both physically and mentally exhausted from the stress of the day. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest, seeking out the comfort of the Force. He truly wasn't meant for subterfuge, having always been honest to the point of bluntness, but he'd agreed to this mission so would carry it out to the best of his ability.

He hadn't expected to enjoy the Chancellor's company, however, and that made him a little uncomfortable. Whilst he still didn't trust Palpatine, the older man was well-read with a wry sarcastic sense of humor disturbingly similar to his own. The evening had been filled with pleasant conversation and laughter – and now Obi-Wan could finally understand why the man had been able to become Chancellor all those years ago. The man was a lot more charismatic than Obi-Wan had ever suspected.

"Back to the Jedi Temple, sir?" the pilot asked, breaking Obi-Wan's reverie … much to his relief. He hadn't liked where his thoughts were taking him.

"Oh … yes; thank you," he said, debating briefly the merits of visiting Padmé. But he was so tired and didn't trust his temper around her at the moment. If she was in a bad mood again, he didn't trust that he wouldn't let fly and ruin their relationship for good. He needed a good night's rest and a long session of meditation then his emotions would return to their customary even keel.

Several minutes later, he got out of the swoop with a word of thanks for the pilot and made his way wearily up to his apartment. He nodded his head in polite greeting to several Jedi as he passed but was relieved when they didn't attempt to engage him in conversation. As he rounded the corner, he nearly fell over a tiny green being. Yoda. "Good evening, Master Yoda," he murmured politely.

"Good evening, young Kenobi," the old Master returned. "Much trouble in your mind there is," he added. "Come; join me in the gardens you will – meditate and seek out the Force together we shall."

"I was going to do that tomorrow, Master," Obi-Wan objected then was caught off guard by a massive yawn.

"Sleep well you will not when troubled your mind is," Yoda replied practically. "Come." He tapped the floor impatiently with his gimer stick.

Obi-Wan realized that it was a waste of energy to argue further, so followed the smallest Jedi obediently out into the gardens. He sat where the Master indicated and crossed his legs then closed his eyes. "Back to basics we shall go tonight," Yoda said quietly, soothingly. For someone known for his frenetic style, the little Jedi could be very calming when he wanted. "Your eyes closed, your mind open. Free yourself of unnecessary burdens you will."

Obi-Wan cast his mind back to his initiate years – when he'd first started learning the meditative disciplines. He smiled slightly, recalling his complaints: "We just have to _sit_?" he'd whined to Master Windu. "For _hours_?" To an eight year old boy – all energy and impatience – meditation was not exciting enough.

Yoda tapped his arm. "Focus you must," he chided gently. "Dwell not in the past – no matter how much amusement it causes you. Listen to my voice and follow where I lead …"

Properly chastised, Obi-Wan wiped the smile off his face and listened to Yoda.

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**Several hours later:**

Refreshed and in full command of his emotions once more, Obi-Wan made his way back up to his apartment and opened up a com connection to the med ward.

"Hello?" came a drowsy voice.

"Hello, Padmé," Obi-Wan replied gravely.

A mirthless laugh filtered through the connection. "So … you woke me up to beg, did you?" Padmé replied. "I thought you had more dignity than that, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan shook his head, regretting that this was a voice-only com. "I just wanted to remind you that I love you, Padmé," he said quietly, biting back the stinging retort on his lips.

"Uh-huh," Padmé grumbled, "and for that you had to waste gods know how many dataries and wake me up." She sighed. "I'm not in the mood to rehash our argument, so I think it's best if you disconnect."

"As you wish," Obi-Wan said. "I'll come back tomorrow and hope that you're in a better mood."

"I wouldn't count on that but hope is a good thing," Padmé yawned. "Go to sleep, Obi-Wan," she added with a slight softening to her tone that gave Obi-Wan hope that she realized how horrible she'd been earlier.

"You too, Padmé. Good night, love."


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

**Later that night:**

Padmé lay staring up at the blank white ceiling, filled with pain – both physical and emotional. And at the moment the emotional pain tormented her far worse than the physical. How could she have been so horrible to Obi-Wan? What under the sun had possessed her? "Obi; I'm so sorry," she mumbled through a fresh wave of tears.

After her shocking temper tantrum the other day, she wouldn't blame him if he chose never to come back. She believed that he loved her and he was such a good man. But even a good man in love had his limits, and she feared that she'd pushed him past his that afternoon. She'd actually thrown a gourd at him – had physically injured him.

She picked up the public com unit next to her bed and punched in the code for the Jedi Temple – she had to apologize before her mood turned spiteful once more and something else set her off. "Can you put me through to Master Kenobi's apartment, please?" she requested.

"Connecting you now," the bored-sounding operator replied.

Padmé waited impatiently, drumming her fingers on the bed. Then: "Hello?"

"Obi," she said in a small voice that didn't even sound like hers.

"Padmé," the man breathed. "Are you all right?" He sounded sleepy … and not surprisingly. It was nearly two in the morning.

"No," Padmé admitted. "I … I …" Her breath hitched as she fought back tears. "I feel like the worst person in the galaxy. You know I didn't mean anything I said, right? I … I just _hurt_ so much and it felt like you were making light of it."

"And you were in no mood for my sarcasm," Obi-Wan put in gently. "I _was_ troubled by what you said and how you acted, but I won't leave you simply because you're having a bad time at the moment. You mean too much to me and I'll stay with you as long as you want me around."

"Gods." Padmé heaved a ragged sigh, wondering how 'forever' sounded. "I want so much to be in your arms right now." She punched the thigh of one of her unresponsive legs.

"That can be arranged," Obi-Wan said. "The med ward is only a half hour away – there's no medical reason why you couldn't be released. As long as you're willing to have someone stay with you while you recover. That's the only reason they don't want to release you – because you live alone."

"Oh." Padmé sucked in another shuddering breath. "Well … your place or mine, Your Jedi Knightness?" she added with some of her old cheekiness.

It wasn't possible, but she could've sworn she could see Obi-Wan grin at that. "My place," he said. "It's a lot nearer to the med ward. I'll come over now and speak with the Healers about releasing you."

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**Early next morning:**

Padmé heaved a happy sigh as Obi-Wan settled on the settee next to her and slipped her arm around his waist. Her condition meant that they couldn't do much more than cuddle and kiss, but she was so glad to be out of that med ward that she was willing to accept her limitations … for now.

"I thought you'd like a bath before I put you into bed," he said now. "I've got some of your favorite products bubbling away."

"Oh … wonderful," she murmured around a yawn. It had only been a few days since she'd had a proper bath but she felt distinctly unkempt, the horrible hospital gown and her shaven head only adding to her discombobulated state. She ran a hand over the bristles, feeling stupid tears spring to her eyes. It was just hair; it was ridiculous to be so upset when she could have died.

"And I haven't had time to get your clothes yet, but you can sleep in one of my shirts," he added. "It'll swamp you, O Petite Senator, but it's very soft and clean."

"Sounds … great," she replied, breathing in deeply – she certainly didn't mind the idea of sleeping in one of Obi's shirts, being surrounded by his clean warm scent all night. She snuggled into him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're tense," she added, kissing the shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Soft lips touched her bristly head. "It wasn't just you," he said. "I've been given a mission by the Jedi Council that is … difficult."

Padmé understood that he couldn't discuss the nature of many of his missions – some being very sensitive – but she kissed his cheek. "Have you meditated today?" she asked. She was completely Force null and yet she derived benefit from meditation – when she got around to it. Someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan depended a great deal on the mental exercises.

Obi-Wan ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. "Master Yoda asked me that too," he confessed.

"And you said …?" Padmé pressed. She got no response and sighed. "Stubborn male," she added. "I wish I could make love to you – _that_ would relax you – but I can't so please meditate. You can't afford to be distracted by my horrible behavior when you have an important mission."

"No," Obi-Wan admitted and gave a small yawn. "Well, as much as I'd like to join you in your slumber, milady, I'm due at the Temple in an hour or so." He got to his feet and scooped Padmé into his arms. "Just enough time for you to soak and then I can tuck you into bed before Keris arrives."

"Keris?" That name was unfamiliar to Padmé – it didn't sound like any of the aides and healers she'd encountered over the last few days.

"She's a Jedi Healer," Obi-Wan informed her. "We were initiates together then she went into Healing and I became a Knight." He smiled at her. "Silven asked her if she would take over your care and she was pleased to agree."

"So … Silven's already a full Jedi?" Padmé asked, surprised. The little human was very young – only just 20 – and Obi-Wan was 25 before he was knighted.

"She is," Obi-Wan said. "I know she's very young, but 22 to 23 is the average age for a human to be knighted. She was a little younger than most, but Qui-Gon was only 20 when _he_ was knighted. My knighting was delayed because of my leaving the Order when I was younger – I had to work harder and longer to prove myself once more when they agreed to readmit me."

"You … you actually left the Order?" Padmé was shocked at this. Obi-Wan had always seemed like the quintessential Jedi to her.

Obi-Wan dipped his head. "Melida/Daan," he explained simply. "I made some good friends when Qui-Gon and I were sent there during the civil war … and my bond with them was far stronger than my weak bond with Qui-Gon at that time. He ordered me not to get involved but I was far more headstrong back then and I refused. It took time and much suffering, but I learned the wisdom behind his thinking and applied for readmission as a Padawan." He coughed and went slightly pink. "I still can't understand why they admitted me when they'd refused readmission to other Padawans that didn't complete their apprenticeship."

Obi-Wan would never have any idea just how special he was, Padmé mused around another yawn. "Is my bath ready yet?" she asked, realizing just how uncomfortable Obi-Wan was right now.

Obi-Wan seemed relieved at the banal change in topic. "It should be," he said, carrying her into the fresher. "Dip your toe in, milady, and let me know."

Padmé obeyed, amazed at the fact that he was still holding her. While small and slim, she was actually fairly sturdy – Obi-Wan was immensely strong, especially considering his slim build and human average height. "It's wonderful," she said around yet another yawn. It was strange how complete inactivity could exhaust one.

Obi-Wan placed her gently on a handy chair and began unbuttoning the simple gown with which she'd been supplied by the med ward. Once she was nude, he lifted her up once more then lowered her into the surprisingly deep bathtub. Obi-Wan's tastes were simple, almost ascetic, and the relative luxury of this bathtub seemed incongruous. But, as the hot water and sweet scent of her favorite lotion surrounded her, she wasn't about to complain.

He took up a soft cloth, dipped it into the water and began stroking it over her exposed shoulder. "Mmm," Padmé circulated sleepily. "You're so sweet – I love you."

She didn't have to look at him to know that he was blushing. "I love you too," he replied.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**A week later:**

Padmé gritted her teeth and gripped the rails on either side of her, trying to force her leg forward. The left foot moved and she nodded her head. Now for the right one. The right foot moved also and she was absurdly pleased by this minor triumph. The therapist had been working with her for days and this was the first time Padmé had managed to move under her own steam.

"Good," the therapist said. "But don't push too hard, Senator," she added. "I know you try these exercises when I'm not around. Have you noticed that when you do the exercises alone it never works?"

"Yes," Padmé admitted grudgingly.

"I know a little more about the body than you do, Senator – and I know what you're capable of doing at the moment. You gain nothing by trying to push yourself, except frustration and the risk of further damage."

"She's always been stubborn," a new voice put in.

Padmé whipped around and nearly lost her grip on the rails. "Mother! Father!" she squealed girlishly.

Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie rushed over to her and her father picked her up like she was still his little girl, hugging her tightly. "Baby girl," he murmured.

Jobal, not to be left out, wrapped her arms around both husband and offspring. "I'm so sorry we took so long to get here," she said. "A lot of the major space lanes are just too dangerous at the moment what with this war."

"I'm just glad you're here," Padmé said. "I've wanted you so badly since …"

"And if we could have got here any sooner we would have," Ruwee said, running his free hand over Padmé's head. Her hair had always grown quickly and her head was now covered in a thick soft fuzz that helped to lessen the 'sick person' impression.

The therapist – perhaps feeling in the way – cleared her throat. "Well, under the circumstances, I believe we can cut today's session short," she said. "You've done well today, but don't push it."

"Yes, ma'am," Padmé murmured, flushing slightly at the scolding tone. _Treating me like I'm no older than Pooja!_, she thought indignantly. But, despite her slightly condescending manner, the therapist was one of the best on Coruscant.

The therapist gathered up her things and packed away the rail set, storing it in a handy cupboard. "Will Master Kenobi be picking you up today?" she asked. "If not, I can arrange for a transport."

Padmé shook her head. She'd barely seen Obi-Wan this week, so involved was he with this mysterious mission. And the few times that she _had_ seen him he'd been tense and unusually snappish. "If you have a com station I'll contact one of my aides," she said.

"It's just through there." The therapist indicated a tiny office area through an open door then smiled when Ruwee strode through still carrying Padmé. "Tell me, sir; were you a beast of burden in a previous existence?"

Ruwee chuckled and even Padmé smiled at that – he was a big heavily-built man and had always enjoyed physical activity such as building and certain sports. Even at nearly seventy years of age, he was immensely strong and his grandchildren loved hanging off his large arms, playing 'swoops' with him. "Some would say I'm a beast in _this_ life," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at his wife.

Jobal merely rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. "You don't need to be so proud of it, you big lump of flesh," she scolded teasingly.

Ruwee put Padmé down – she giggled at her parents' familiar teasing then connected to 500 Republica. "Dormé; can you please collect me from the med ward?" she asked when her aide accepted the connection.

"Of course, milady," Dormé responded promptly. "Traffic allowing, I should be there in around a half an hour."

"Oh; and bring the larger transport," Padmé added. "My parents have arrived."

"Oh, wonderful," Dormé replied, losing some of her official manner. The two young women had known each other a long time – even before Padmé's election as Queen – and Dormé had met Padmé's parents many times. "I look forward to seeing them again."

"Hello, dear," Ruwee called out affectionately. "I hope my daughter isn't being too much of a tyrant."

"_Father_ …" Padmé sighed then laughed.

Dormé giggled. "Hello, Mr. Naberrie," she replied. Then added; "I'm on my way now, Milady."

Padmé gave a very small sigh. The two girls had played together as younglings, but Dormé seemed extremely determined to keep a distance between them now that Padmé was in the political arena. Her embryonic friendship with Melarina had faltered due to Melarina's frequent trips to Cloud City and … she gulped … she'd nearly lost Obi-Wan's friendship only a week earlier. For someone outgoing, articulate, intelligent and friendly, she didn't seem to have much ability to sustain a friendship.

She had forgotten that she and Obi-Wan had been close friends for two years before they'd become intimate, so intent was she on dwelling in the sudden black mood that had entered her spirit. A pity-fest Sola would have called it, Padmé decided, trying to shake herself out of it. She should be happy – her parents were finally here, she was making progress with her therapy and she'd mended the rift between herself and Obi-Wan.

"Well!" she said overly brightly, clapping her hands together. "Dormé will be here soon, but there's enough time for us to have something to drink in the diner next door."

Jobal and Ruwee exchanged dubious glances, which Padmé could understand. Coco Town was one of the rougher parts of Coruscant, and Dex's Diner was in the thick of it. But he made great bantha burgers and, Padmé had to admit, she wanted to meet the mysterious Kila; find out what was so 'sweet' about her that had Obi-Wan so determined to make her a friend.

Was she jealous? She shouldn't be, she knew that, but there was something about Kila that made her distinctly uneasy.

"Come on," she urged, still fighting the black mood that had suddenly overcome her. "I've been there a few times, and I've never had any trouble. And once you meet the owner, you'll realize just _why_ there's never any trouble there."

"All right." Jobal gave in first and then Ruwee nodded his head, picking Padmé up once more.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several minutes later, they were safely ensconced in a booth at Dex's and Padmé looked around surreptitiously, seeing if she could work out which one of the waitresses bustling around was Kila.

A _lekku_ appeared in her field of vision and she looked up at Neela. "Can I get you something to drink while you decide?" the Togruta asked.

"Well, caf for me and … Mother, Father?"

"Water for us, please, dear," Jobal said then patted her husband's arm. "You drink too much caf; you know that."

"Yes dear," Ruwee replied mournfully before dropping his eyelid in a lazy wink at Neela. "Think you could sneak me some while my wife isn't looking, you sweet pretty lady?"

Padmé and Jobal both rolled their eyes. Ruwee Naberrie – a loving husband, father and grandfather – was the biggest flirt this side of the Galactic Rim.

Neela winked back and trailed her _lekku_ over Ruwee's shoulders. "I'll see what I can do for you, big fella," she breathed then grinned at Padmé. "Now, this is a man that knows how to flirt – unlike your Obi-Wan. He blushes too much."

"You flirt with Obi-Wan _because_ you want him to blush," Padmé shot back. She was entirely comfortable with Neela flirting with Obi-Wan and even with her father – a Togruta's _lekku_ twitched when they were sexually interested in someone and she saw no evidence of twitching around either male.

"This is true," Neela admitted. "Well, I'll go and get your drinks, Senator." The _lekku_ trailed over Ruwee's face this time and he chuckled, grabbing the _lekku_ and placing a kiss on the tip – much like he would kiss a human female's hand. "Big fella." She winked at Padmé's mother. "You should keep a short rein on this one – he's a charmer."

"Shameless," Padmé muttered as Neela walked away, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

"Who; that waitress or my husband?" Jobal asked, grinning when Ruwee slipped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hmm." Padmé was hard pressed to decide which of the two was more shameless. He and Melarina would be an interesting combination – Padmé suspected that Melarina would actually meet her match in Ruwee Naberrie. "I'll have to get back to you on that," she declared with a laugh, glad that her self-pitying mood seemed to have dissipated. "It's a shame that Sola couldn't come," she added as one of the waitress droids gave them their drinks. She could understand it, though – space travel was particularly hazardous at the moment, and Sola had a young family to think of.

"She and the girls send their love," Jobal said, clicking her tongue when Ruwee and Neela blew kisses at each other. "Idiotic male." She took Padmé's hand, her eyes twinkling. "I think Ryoo was ready to hijack the first ship off-world so that she could come to 'kiss Aunt Padmé's ouchie all better'."

If only the love of her family was all it would take, Padmé reflected, smiling at her mother. She had the horrible feeling that it would take her a while to recover – the constant lassitude and weakness were already wearing on her. "She's a sweetheart," she said. "I'll call them tonight." Anything was better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself, she decided.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Sidious leaned slightly over the table and topped up Obi-Wan's _kevas_. Although the man was a Jedi that seemed determined to find out Sidious' true nature, he couldn't help respecting the younger man. He was strong and steady, loyal but not to the point of blindness, and he had a wonderful sarcastic wit that Sidious appreciated. He dabbed at the wetness in his eyes caused by their latest round of laughter and then sat back with a sigh. "Oh, my; it's been a while since I laughed like that," he said.

Obi-Wan chuckled, his bright eyes dancing. It turned out that the Jedi had a knack for impersonation and he'd kept Sidious most amused for the last half-hour with his impersonations of the mannerisms for a number of Senators for whom Sidious had no liking. "It's very bad of me; I should show more respect," he said.

"Respect is earned; not bestowed," Sidious replied. "Besides, life is too short not to laugh once in a while. There's actually a school of mysticism on Charybda that teaches enlightenment through laughter – you could probably be an instructor there."

Obi-Wan smiled again. "For so many years, I tried to be a sober, serious Jedi – what I thought was expected of me," he confessed. "But I came to realize that I was denying who I was and started to enjoy the odd bout of silliness once again."

"It certainly hasn't done your Jedi status any harm," Sidious observed. "I don't know much about the mysteries of Jedi life," he lied, "but it strikes me that a one-dimensional being would be of little use in the kind of life you lead."

Obi-Wan looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected that kind of insight. "I could have done with realizing that a lot sooner," he acknowledged. "It would have saved me a lot of frustration."

"What's past is past," Sidious said briskly, taking on a fatherly tone. "You can't change it – you can only learn from it. Regrets are useless and only eat away at you."

"You're right," Obi-Wan replied – much to Sidious' amusement it seemed like the Jedi was choking on that admission. So much the better. Obi-Wan Kenobi would not be an easy conversion but he would be worth it.

"What's so funny?" Obi-Wan asked.

Sidious allowed the smirk to surface. "You admitting that a politician is right about anything," he teased.

Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed. "So … not only do I have Melarina, Padmé, Kila and Qui-Gon to torment me, now I must add you to the list?"

"Your sister, your lover, your friend and your Master … it's natural they'd tease you," Sidious replied. "As for me; I don't know you well but so few people appreciate my sense of humor. I'm sure many roll their eyes when I'm not looking."

Obi-Wan chuckled again and reached for some flatbread. "Oh, I've been the recipient of more sets of rolled eyes than I can count," he said, applying preserves with a generous hand. "Of course; being that I'm _not_ the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, I get the rolled eyes right in front of me."

"Hmm … that's an advantage to my position I hadn't considered before." Sidious passed Obi-Wan some more preserves, a little surprised at his growing liking for the younger man. While Sith didn't fear strong emotions in the way so many Jedi did, the softer emotions were generally not encouraged. And Sidious, as one of the darkest of the Dark Masters, would never have thought that he could grow to like what should be one of his greatest enemies.

The idea of having an apprentice that he could like as well as respect was a novel one – a Right Hand was usually just another tool – and it would bear much consideration as well as careful attention. He couldn't afford for his genuine liking for Kenobi to take too strong a hold – many a Jedi had left the Light and many a Sith had left the Dark because of indulging their emotions to the point of weakness.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

**Two weeks later:**

Padmé stepped gratefully off the bar set and sank into her wheeled chair, accustomed by now to the trembling of her legs. But even she could see that she was doing so much better than a couple of weeks earlier.

"That was very good, Senator," her therapist said, passing Padmé a glass of water. "When you come in again, we should be able to progress to a cane. Your balance is good now and you're much stronger."

"Yes; I feel stronger," Padmé admitted, blotting at her face with a damp washcloth.

The door opened to admit Obi-Wan and … Melarina. "Look what showed up at my door this morning," he said.

Melarina hurried over and surprised Padmé with a hug. "I wish I could've gotten here sooner but a lot of the coms relays have been destroyed, especially in the outer sectors. I only heard about your accident a week ago – Kayden put me on the first outbound ship he could get."

"And how are you and Kayden?" Padmé asked. "You're spending an awful lot of time together lately."

"He's fun, good looking and wears me out completely between the silks," Melarina replied, giving a smirk when Obi-Wan paled slightly. "We're not serious and I certainly won't be broken-hearted when we split." She nudged Padmé and chuckled. "Maybe I'll go after Master Qui-Gon Jinn. The things I could do to that big man … Yum." She gave a shiver and laughed heartlessly when her brother made a face.

"When you've quite finished being completely evil," Obi-Wan broke in, "we should get her Ladyship …"

"Hey!" Padmé interjected indignantly.

"… home," Obi-Wan continued serenely.

"Wonderful – exchange one set of walls for another," Padmé grumbled.

Perhaps Melarina could see Padmé's despair for she took the handles of the chair from her brother. "Not so fast there, big brother," she said. "I haven't seen Padmé in months – you're not about to cloister her up in that Temple of yours." She joggled the chair slightly, her small size belying her strength. "Kayden has Javen and I'm sure you have apprentices to torment, so shoo! I'm kidnapping the Senator; we're going to eat, shop and gossip." She winked at Obi-Wan. "Except for the first activity, I know you have no interest in spending that kind of time with us."

Obi-Wan grinned. "You're right," he said. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Padmé?" he added.

Padmé rolled her eyes internally, but settled for grabbing Obi-Wan's hands and pulling him to her for a kiss. "I'll be fine," she said. She knew he meant well but he was _fussing_! "Don't make me have to call Security and have you bounced out of here."

Obi-Wan gave a big martyred sigh. "Fine! I know when I'm not wanted," he teased then kissed Padmé, tugged roughly at his sister's braid and was gone.

"Beast." Melarina shook a fist after him to which he raised a hand in salute before turning a corner and disappearing from view. "Well, what do you want to do first – eat or shop?"

"Eat," Padmé said. For the first time in the weeks since the accident, she actually had an appetite. "Let's go to Dex's – I want one of his monstrous bantha burgers."

And she still wanted to meet Kila. She'd been to Dex's a few times in the last couple of weeks trying to find Kila but her inquiries had come to naught. Dex was suspicious of politicians and authority figures and seemed to have a protective streak a mile wide for Kila.

"Sounds good to me," Melarina replied, grasped the wheelchair once more and began steering Padmé with a surprising deftness out of the med ward.

Padmé breathed in the air with delight and waved at her parents as they strolled past. "What are you two doing today?" she asked.

"Packing," Jobal replied. "Our visitor permits expire tomorrow, so …"

"I understand," Padmé said, regretting at that instant her "yea" vote to tightening the Republic's immigration procedures. "Will you come and see me tonight before you go?"

"Of course, baby girl," Ruwee said, bending and lifting Padmé straight out of the chair for a hug. "And who is this delightful creature slaving over you?"

He grinned at Melarina, who grinned back and offered her hand. "Melarina – I'm Obi-Wan's sister."

Ruwee made a big show of kissing the small hand presented to him, chuckling when Jobal's hand impacted with the back of his head. "Charmed my dear," he said, putting Padmé back in the chair.

"Oh. Oh my." Melarina feigned a swoon and put a hand to her heart. "Where have _you_ been all my life?"

Padmé sighed. "Melarina; this is Ruwee Naberrie, my father. And Jobal Naberrie, my mother."

Melarina laughed then shook Jobal's hand. "I'd apologize for flirting with your husband, except I'm not sorry – your husband is so …" She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips.

Padmé would swear that the native Mandalorian had been born without a sense of shame. "Meli!" she scolded then gave in when Jobal started laughing.

"He's far too old for you, dear," Jobal said, smacking Ruwee's brawny arm. "For shame, Ruwee Naberrie – flirting with this young woman!"

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" Melarina said as Jobal kissed Padmé then dragged her husband away. "Ohh … I know he's your father, but …"

"But …?" Padmé wondered if she really wanted Melarina to verbalize her thoughts.

"_Gorgeous_. Big, handsome, walks like a professional pleasure worker, has a rear as tight and round as a …"

"_Me-li!_" Padmé shrieked, causing passersby to crane their necks. She really hadn't wanted Melarina to verbalize _those_ thoughts.

Melarina laughed once more then turned the chair in through the open doorway to Dex's. A waitress came over to them, datapad poised for input. "Good morning," she said. "Can I get you some water while you decide?"

"Yes; thank you," Padmé replied. She looked around and realized that the over-protective Dex was nowhere in sight, so took the opportunity. "Is Kila working today?"

The woman paled then reddened. "I'm Kila," she said quickly. "I'll … I'll get your drinks but Neela will get your order – I'm about to go off duty."

And then she was gone, leaving Padmé staring after her.

"What was _that_ about?" Melarina asked, looking up from her perusal of the menu.

"I just wanted to see what she was like – Obi talks about her so much," Padmé replied weakly, feeling bad for whatever she'd done to frighten the other woman.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," Melarina teased. "You know Obi would never cheat on you." She grasped Padmé's hand suddenly. "You _do_ know that," she added seriously.

"I do," Padmé said reassuringly. "But I was curious." She forced herself to look over at Kila once more. The woman was certainly no beauty and was more than a few pounds overweight, yet she had a nice face and startlingly lovely – if a little alien – violet eyes. Padmé was unsure whether her observations made her feel more reassured or less.

As the woman made her way around the diner, Padmé noticed that she shied away from the obvious flirting of her clients, and realized just why Obi saw her as another sister – Kila projected an air of fragility quite at odds with the sturdy, heavy body and unremarkable face. But … why be so scared of Padmé?

Kila came back shortly with a pitcher of water and two glasses then ducked away with a murmured "Good day".

Well! Padmé had had no idea she was so intimidating.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan sat in the Temple gardens, legs crossed, breathing deeply as he tried to find his center. Ever since the charade had begun, he'd felt strangely off-balance. He didn't trust the Chancellor, never had, yet was beginning to like him more as the days went by. He shook his head in bewilderment. How could he like someone he couldn't trust? Their interactions were warm and friendly, filled with witty conversation and much laughter, but …

But.

He started when a large form cast a shadow over him. "I thought I'd find you out here," Qui-Gon said, sitting down next to Obi-Wan and crossing his legs with a fluidity that belied his seventy years.

"Welcome back, Master," Obi-Wan said, glad to see that his old friend had survived the latest battles on the frontlines. Their old bond would of course have let him know otherwise, but it was nice to see the evidence of Qui-Gon's continual good health. "How long are you on Coruscant this time?"

"Just a week, I'm afraid," Qui-Gon replied. "The _Tantiv_ had to drydock for upgrades, so we've been given leave."

"Well, it's good to see you again, Master," Obi-Wan replied.

Qui-Gon sighed. "When are you going to start using my given name, Padawan?" he teased.

"I'm trying," Obi-Wan said.

"Very," Qui-Gon agreed deadpan.

That comment was very like one Obi-Wan would have made and he wondered briefly who had had the most influence on the other. "Funny," he shot back dryly.

Qui-Gon gave a small smile. "Tell me about Padmé – how is she recovering?"

Glad to talk about something other than his odd relationship with the Chancellor, Obi-Wan smiled. "She's now able to walk a little, and we're hoping she'll progress to a cane very soon. She's been a bit depressed at times but Meli will shake her out of it." He carefully hid his amusement at the blanching of the older man's features.

"Your sister's back – that must be nice," Qui-Gon said neutrally. "I thought she was a permanent fixture at Cloud City nowadays."

_Thought or hoped?_ The wicked thought shot rapidly through Obi-Wan's mind.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as if he could divine Obi-Wan's thoughts and Obi-Wan wiped as much of his amusement off his features as he could. "It's probably too soon after her divorce," he said. "She's enjoying her freedom to flirt a little too much to think of settling down right now."

"Flirt …," Qui-Gon murmured. "Your sister's idea of flirtation is about as subtle as a blaster to the neck."

Obi-Wan couldn't help the laugh that escaped him this time. "I think she was born without a sense of shame," he consoled. "She even came on to Padmé's father." Qui-Gon and Ruwee Naberrie had met shortly after Padmé's accident and the two big softly-spoken men had gotten along well.

Qui-Gon smiled slightly, as if relieved that Melarina was now focusing her attentions elsewhere. He patted Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'll join you in your meditation if I may," he said.

"You're more than welcome, M … Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan replied.

The slight smile broadened then Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Obi-Wan followed suit, feeling a little more in balance away from the machinations of the Chancellor and the Senate. It was easy to meditate in silence, surrounded by the Force, but a Jedi should be able to meditate anywhere – even in the chaotic underworld of Coruscant if need be.

"You're thinking too much, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon remonstrated gently. "Concentrate on the now, not what could have been or may become."

"Visualize your troubles as physical entities," he heard Qui-Gon instruct. "Accept what you can't change, change what you can't accept and use your wisdom to discern the difference."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Qui-Gon watched as his former pupil struggled to reach the proper meditative state – he hadn't seen the young man in such difficulty since the early uneasy days of their pairing. And, once again, Qui-Gon wondered whether he and his fellow Council members had done the right thing in asking Obi-Wan to carry out this investigation. Obi-Wan would do his duty – and do it well as always – but it appeared to be taking a toll on him that it wouldn't on say Qui-Gon or Mace Windu, both of whom hovered a little closer to the Dark Side than either liked.

Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, it was he in whom Palpatine had shown an interest – ever since the Naboo blockade. Palpatine would never seek a friendship with either Mace or Qui-Gon. As Qui-Gon slipped further into his meditation, he laid a companionable hand on Obi-Wan's forearm, surprised at the tension radiating through him.

Then Obi-Wan's signature became that of the serene yet fun-loving young man Qui-Gon had shepherded often inadequately through a rocky adolescence into adulthood. By Obi-Wan's side stood a small tow-headed boy with bright blue eyes and a dark-haired dark-eyed girl with the fiery spirit of her mother.

A pair of arms slipped around Qui-Gon's leg and he looked down to see a small girl with his own bright blue eyes and a good deal of dark curling hair. Her features were round and babyish still, but Qui-Gon could detect his blood in her young face. Was this a child that he would have or could have? After losing Shmi and Anakin, he'd closed himself off to the idea of falling in love and believed that, at 70, he was now too old to think of having children. And who could the mother be? He didn't know any females that could pass on that glorious curly hair or pale delicate-looking skin.

The little girl squeezed with all her infant might. "Love 'oo, da," she piped out then toddled off to gaze at the tow-headed boy with an adoration not at all appreciated. He gave her an impatient push then ran off with the dark-eyed girl that looked so much like Padmé.

Qui-Gon pulled himself from his meditation and nodded to Obi-Wan, who looked far more centered, at peace. Yet he also looked resolute, as if he'd made a hard-fought decision. "What is it, Obi-Wan?" he asked quietly.

Obi-Wan's eyes opened – in those bright orbs were a galaxy of hurt, betrayal and anger. "Are you able to convene an emergency session of the Council?" he said.

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied. "But can I say …?"

"No," Obi-Wan interrupted then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Master, but I'd rather not have to tell this twice."

Obi-Wan never made frivolous requests – never attempted to capitalize on his high standing in the eyes of the Council. Qui-Gon nodded his head. "Return to your meditation, Obi-Wan, and we'll call you when we're ready."

Obi-Wan nodded his head. "Thank you, Master," he said.

"And I should go now," Qui-Gon said. He had a brief meeting with the _Tantiv's_ quartermaster – Qui-Gon's R2 unit had been blasted off his fighter during their most recent battle and was presumed destroyed. It would need to be replaced before Qui-Gon's return to the fleet. He leaned over and clasped Obi-Wan's shoulder briefly, comfortingly, before getting up smoothly and striding away.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé transferred herself carefully out of the wheeled chair and sank into the settee with a sigh. She'd thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon she'd spent with Melarina, but it had tired her out both physically and mentally.

Melarina eyed her with concern. "You should have said something sooner," she remonstrated.

Padmé knew that – and that she would pay for her over-exertion later – but she'd wanted just _one_ day of not being treated like an invalid. "Mmm," she acknowledged grudgingly then smiled gratefully up at Dormé when the latter placed a pot of _kevas_ and a platter of wafers on the small side table. "Thank you, Dormé," she said.

"You're welcome, milady," Dormé replied then left the room as unobtrusively as she'd entered.

"Milady …?" Melarina snickered then leaned over and poured out two cups of the fragrant _kevas_.

Padmé rolled her eyes at Melarina's teasing. "Dormé was part of my retinue when I was Queen and she can't seem to break the habit."

"Oh, handmaiden," Melarina put on a haughty air, "some dust has touched one of my dainty slippers. Please send for someone to clean it."

Padmé rolled her eyes once more and giggled – _not_ a good idea when drinking. The hot _kevas_ went down her airway, causing her to choke and splutter. Eyes streaming, she waved off Melarina's concern. "I'm … fine," she got out. "Don't make me laugh when I have something in my mouth."

"You think that's why Obi forced himself to be so serious for so long?" Padmé stared at Melarina blankly and the younger woman elaborated. "He's always got something in his mouth, after all."

Padmé giggled again – Obi-Wan's appetite was huge and she had no idea how he stayed so slim. "Maybe," she said, shifting slightly on the settee and suppressing a moan of pain from her abused muscles. Oh, she was going to be sore tomorrow!

Melarina giggled again. "I bet Qui-Gon threw a party when Obi was knighted and moved out."

Qui-Gon had only just lost Shmi and Ani – and was recovering from a near-fatal wound at the time of Obi-Wan's knighting. Padmé doubted that he'd even been up to attending the knighting ceremony, although of course he had. Padmé remembered that the big Jedi Master had been surrounded by a large clutch of Jedi – all of whom had looked very protective she recalled now. "Probably," she said now, not about to share Qui-Gon's sad story with anyone. The only reason she knew of it was that she had been witness to the sweet and steady attachment between Qui-Gon and both Skywalkers.

"I heard my name."

Qui-Gon appeared suddenly at the still open door to Padmé's apartment, causing Padmé to start. Behind her she thought she heard Melarina murmur "Rowr" but chose to ignore it. "Master Jinn," she said with a smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Pardon the intrusion, Senator, Miss Kenobi – I was looking for Obi-Wan. He was supposed to meet me at the Council chamber half an hour ago and he's not answering his com."

Padmé and Melarina glanced at each other – Obi-Wan was always punctual and never went anywhere without his com device. "We haven't seen him for a while, Master Jinn," Melarina said while Padmé transferred herself back into her chair and wheeled over to her com unit. Com units were more powerful than the little portable devices used by the Jedi – her unit's signal was stronger, would travel farther.

Padmé input the code for Obi-Wan's com and frowned when she heard several oddly spaced clicks punctuated by static. "Obi-Wan; are you there?" she said. All she got was the same pattern of clicks and static. "Obi-Wan – keep this com line open as long as you can. We're trying to trace your signal."

Melarina touched Qui-Gon's arm. "Can you … feel Obi through the Force?"

"No," Qui-Gon said, his frown deepening. "There are parts of the Galaxy to which our bond doesn't extend but I only saw him this morning. He couldn't have gone so far so fast."

It was too soon to panic, Padmé told herself firmly and wheeled herself to one side as Qui-Gon began entering codes rapidly into her com unit. Padmé was good with com devices and had a very high level of security clearance, but she couldn't make any sense of the complex string of code the Jedi Master was inputting.

"He's close by," Qui-Gon said after several interminable minutes. "I have him within a five-mile radius of the Senate and Chancellory buildings." He bowed slightly then took Padmé's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I must go now," he added.

"Of course," Padmé said. She wasn't in the least Force sensitive but it seemed that things had become just a little bit darker all of a sudden.

Meli caught Qui-Gon's arm. "_Find_ him," she urged.

"I'll do everything I can," Qui-Gon replied gravely. He bowed once more then was gone with a swirl of cloak and a long stride.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

After Qui-Gon had left, Melarina turned to Padmé. As frightened as she felt about her brother, she could only imagine what Padmé was going through right now. Melarina had never loved anyone the way Padmé and Obi-Wan loved each other, and for one brief instant she was glad of that. She'd loved Corran, but not like this, and had still ended up suffering. _Was it really worth it?_, she wondered now, putting her arms around the slender shaking form of Obi-Wan's lover. "It'll be okay," she murmured.

"If wishing only made it so," Padmé said, whisking a tear from her cheek. "But thanks – I know you're scared too."

"Yes," Melarina admitted. "Qui-Gon and he are like brothers – if Qui-Gon can't feel him in the Force, do you think …?" She couldn't form the horrible thought.

"Qui-Gon would know," Padmé interrupted. "Their bond."

"What can we do?" Melarina itched to get out there and tear apart Coruscant with her bare hands. Action was far better than seeing Padmé with that horrible stricken look on her face.

"Nothing," Padmé replied dully. "Only wait and hope that the Force spares him."

"Kriff to the Force!" Melarina exploded. "It took Obi from his family for years and now it's taking him again."

"Meli … _don't_!" Padmé got out, pushing away.

Melarina looked down at Padmé and felt instantly guilty. She was still angry with that Force, but Padmé didn't need that right now. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan sat quietly in the dark cell, centering himself and gathering his strength for what was to come. The Dark Side surrounded him, whispering, beckoning, but he closed himself off to it. He would not fall to the Dark Side, no matter how much this Dark Lord wished it.

When he had learned that the Senate had fallen under the influence of a Sith named Darth Sidious he had intended to report his findings to the Jedi Council. On his way there, however, he had been set upon by several clone troopers and beaten into unconsciousness before being taken to this dungeon.

His access to the Force was obfuscated by the sheer pervasiveness of the Dark Side but if he concentrated he could find the Light. Melarina's passion and fun, Kila's shy yet sweet spirit, Qui-Gon's power and strength and Yoda's wisdom and mischief. Very faintly he could also detect Padmé's love and smiled into the darkness. He'd suspected that their bond was unusually strong but for a non-Force sensitive's feelings to be able to be felt …

A robed and cloaked figure appeared and nodded to the guards. "Let me in."

"Chancellor Palpatine?" What was he doing here? "You shouldn't be here, sir," he murmured as the Chancellor reached him and clasped his shoulder. "There's danger."

"Oh, not to me, my boy," Palpatine replied then threw back his hood to reveal glowing yellow eyes.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

"You … you're Darth Sidious," Obi-Wan said stupidly.

"You've long suspected a darkness around me – did you think I didn't know?" Palpatine … Sidious … replied. "I tolerated your clumsy probings because you interest me, Master Kenobi. But now the time has come for you to make a choice – to die for Jedi dogma or to live fully in the glorious darkness of a Sith."

"Of course I want to live, Sidious, but not on those terms," Obi-Wan said.

The faint smile disappeared from Sidious' face, being replaced by anger. "You're a fool, Kenobi – I should have listened to my instincts and gone after your Master."

"Qui-Gon wouldn't turn either," Obi-Wan replied steadily. Fear greeted the possibility of death – calm heralded its certainty. Obi-Wan had no fear of death – he knew what lay beyond – but allowed himself a brief moment of regret for what he would put Padmé and those that loved him through.

"You're naïve as well as a fool," Sidious shot back. "Qui-Gon nearly turned during the battle with Maul – he hovers far closer to the darkness than you are prepared to admit."

Obi-Wan feigned a yawn. "For a creature of the Dark Side, you seem very interested in prating on," he said insolently.

Sidious cackled, his yellow eyes glowing hideously. "Sarcastic to the last, Kenobi," he said derisively. "You could have been such a good Right Hand – I almost regret the necessity of killing you."

"Yes; and I have some swampland on Tatooine that's for sale," Obi-Wan wisecracked.

Another cackle came from the dark being. "Amusing, young one." With a flick of his wrist, he obliterated Obi-Wan's shackles and then pulled him to his feet. "Let us go elsewhere – perhaps after you've spent more time with me and my fellows you will see …"

"The light?" Obi-Wan interjected with a malicious glee.

"Sense," Sidious continued calmly as if Obi-Wan's comment hadn't reached him.

Obi-Wan stretched. "Well, I could do with a change of scenery," he said nonchalantly – although there was a sick curiosity inside him about the inner workings of the Sith. The only Sith he'd encountered knowingly had been the Zabrak that had nearly killed Qui-Gon all those years ago. And he hadn't acted at all like Sidious. Sidious was charming, friendly, witty even – which made him even more dangerous than the Zabrak. Maul could never have persuaded anyone into the Dark Side – he was a stone-cold killer.

"Well, good," Sidious said. He touched Obi-Wan's face. "My people were instructed not to hurt you," he said disapprovingly.

"Well, I wasn't about to come without putting up a fight," Obi-Wan replied.

"You could heal these yourself – are you really so vulnerable to the Dark Side that you won't risk using the Force to heal?" Sidious asked mildly.

"I'm not going to waste my energy healing something that will heal well enough on its own," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Sidious' less than subtle insinuation. He linked his fingers and cracked the knuckles, prompting a frown from Sidious. That provoked another bit of malicious glee which Obi-Wan did his best to suppress. Maybe if he annoyed Sidious enough, the Sith would drop this pretense of being Obi-Wan's friend.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Sidious watched the young man's expressive face as they walked through the labyrinth of stone corridors. Buried deeply underground for millennia, the Sith edifice stood less than two miles from the Jedi Temple – those blind fools in the Jedi had never realized just how closely their enemy lived among them.

Obi-Wan stopped at a doorway and watched two young Sith train with sabers. No half-strength sabers for the Sith – they learned the hard way. "An interesting style," he offered.

"Yes; it has some similarities to the Vaapad for which Master Windu is so renowned," Sidious replied. "We have no fear of the darkness within us – within all of us. We embrace it and nurture it – darkness gives us strength and purpose."

"I receive the same strength and purpose from the Light," Obi-Wan said, his bright eyes flickering over the two young combatants. "Tell me; were these younglings even given a choice or have they been indoctrinated since birth?"

"I'm not going to pretend a virtue I don't possess, my friend," Sidious replied calmly. "Their parents were killed during a civil uprising on Erenia when they were mere babes. They are both immensely strong in the Force and I knew that they would be a threat should they become Jedi."

"So you made sure that they never would."

"Of course," Sidious said. "Don't you do the same with your younglings? Surround them with Jedi trappings and dogma – never even letting them see that there may be another side?"

"We acknowledge the darkness, Sidious – we'd be fools not to," Obi-Wan said, still watching the red blades. "I gather you don't get your crystals from Ilum – red doesn't grow there."

"A little does, but the quality is too poor," Sidious said, accepting the change of subject. "However, other planets have plenty of red to spare." He put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Come; there is much more for you to see, and then we shall eat. I don't know about you, but I am hungry."

"Hmm; I suppose dreams of galactic domination _would_ make one hungry," Obi-Wan agreed dryly.

Sidious smiled at the man's wit. The Jedi truly were fools if they thought this passionate smart-mouthed creature could be made over into their stoic ideal.

"I amuse you?"

"Frequently," Sidious said. "And precious little does, Master Kenobi. That's one of the reasons I wish you to join me. My previous Right Hands were all fine warriors but they could not wield their tongues half as well. You make me laugh, you make me think. The Jedi life is wasting all that potential, that strength."

"Good grief; you really do love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Obi-Wan smirked and stopped to examine a com console.

Sidious couldn't help it – he returned the smirk; a movement that felt strange for its genuine feeling. "I _am_ a politician, dear boy," he said, satisfied with the progress he was making. Obi-Wan still stood firmly in the Light but Sidious was clever enough to capitalize on the slight chink in the other man's armor. Obi-Wan Kenobi would not be an easy conversion but he would be worth it.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

**Several hours later:**

Padmé swore in gutter Corellian and slammed her fist down on the com unit. For all her connections and her abilities she felt remarkably useless. She'd heard nothing from Qui-Gon or anyone else on the Jedi Council and Melarina had gone to join the search party. Padmé ground her teeth and punched at one of her thighs – if it wasn't for this kriffing injury, she could have collected Cordé's old blaster and joined the search party too.

Jobal rubbed her back soothingly but knew better than to attempt words of wisdom. "So much for enjoying your last night," Padmé said bitterly. Ruwee had offered his services to the search party – he'd done a lot of Search and Rescue in his time – and had taken off two hours ago.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, dear," Jobal replied then handed Padmé a mug filled with a light soup. "I know you don't want to eat, but you have to keep up your strength."

Padmé took a reluctant sip, her stomach churning, and felt the warmth and comfort of Jobal's cure-all that she'd given to Padmé and Sola whenever they'd been unhappy as younglings. "It's good – thank you," she said.

"Then drink," Jobal advised, running her fingers over the thick fuzz on Padmé's head that was now beginning to curl.

"I wonder what Obi-Wan's feeling right now. Is he scared, angry, worried …? Or is he dead?"

"Padmé, love – I know it's hard, but tormenting yourself like this won't do any good," Jobal said. "When Obi-Wan comes back you're going to need to be strong for him. You're partners in trouble as well as during the good times – that's what love demands."

Padmé took comfort from the word 'when' and sipped once more at the soup.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Obi-Wan followed Sidious through the never-ending network of corridors then stopped when Sidious threw off that cloak and closed his eyes. When the eyes opened they were back to their usual human color. He clasped Obi-Wan's face and Obi-Wan felt the warmth of healing spread through him.

"Better," Sidious said with a nod as the cuts and bruises faded. "Reela is coming to offer me my mid-afternoon _kevas_ and she would be most distressed to see you so battered."

He opened a door and ushered Obi-Wan into his Chancellor's office. "Have a seat, Master Kenobi, and join me for some _kevas_," he offered urbanely as the young aide entered.

If Reela had possessed any Force sensitivity, Obi-Wan might have been tempted to inform her of Sidious' true nature. As it was, he found himself going along with the charade. The longer he could stay alive, the more chance that someone would find him and unmask the Chancellor. "Thank you, Chancellor – _kevas_ would be lovely."

"Master Kenobi," Reela said with a blush. "I wasn't aware you were visiting us today."

"It was an impromptu invitation on my part, my dear," Sidious said. "I know you like people to put everything on your schedule, but you'll forgive me just this once, won't you?"

Reela sighed heavily then smiled. "Of course, sir," she said. "You know I can never stay angry with you for long." She put the tray on the desk. "I'll get another cup for you, Master Kenobi," she added.

"Thank you, Reela," Obi-Wan said, feeling oddly disconnected. He was a prisoner, he reminded himself, regardless of whether Sidious beat him or had fresh-brewed _kevas_ for him.

Reela blushed but managed to look Obi-Wan in the eyes long enough to say, "You're welcome". Then she smiled once more at Sidious. "Have you eaten, Chancellor? You're looking a little run-down."

"I'm old enough to be your grandfather, my dear – you really can't mother me," Sidious replied, sounding amused.

Reela returned the laugh. "You may be stubborn, sir, but you'll find some broth in the tureen coming your way in a few minutes."

With that parting shot she departed, and Sidious laughed again. "Delightful little creature, isn't she?"

"She almost makes you respectable," Obi-Wan replied. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to turn her into another one of your little dark minions."

"She doesn't have to be an acolyte – or even Force sensitive – to be useful to me," Sidious said, then took a hearty draught of his _kevas_. "I have made use of many people in pursuit of my plans – some outlived their usefulness and were disposed of, others serve me still."

The door opened once more to admit Reela bearing another silver tray – this one holding a cup and the promised tureen of broth. "Thank you again, my dear," Sidious said. "Now go and finish up for today – the Senate is out of session and I may even finish soon. Go and see your young man."

Reela blushed hotly. "We're just friends, Chancellor," she protested.

"Hmmm. Well, I could torment you some more, but then what would I do with my time tomorrow?" Sidious teased. "Go and have a nice evening."

"You too, Chancellor," Reela replied, her face still pink. She put the tureen in front of Sidious then dipped her head. "Chancellor, Master Kenobi."

Sidious chuckled as the door closed then lifted the lid of the tureen. "For someone so timid, she has no problem getting her way with me. I've become very fond of her."

"But you won't hesitate to 'dispose of her' once you grow tired of her," Obi-Wan said darkly, pouring himself a cup of the _kevas_. He'd never been held captive in such a civilized manner before – it was actually more disturbing than a cold damp cell and regular interrogations. He'd experienced that kind of capture more than once in his life; had learned how to comport himself in that situation. He knew _why_ Sidious was treating him so well of course – the man wanted Obi-Wan to fall to the Dark Side – but that didn't make his current discombobulation any easier to deal with.

At last now he knew why he'd always felt so uncomfortable in this building – the Sith were only a couple of miles underground. Hundreds, thousands of them – their presence filling their surrounds with the darkness. Even those two young boys, who couldn't have been more than eight, had little but anger and hate. Did they even know they were brothers? And if they knew, would they care?

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Sidious took a spoonful of the soup and smiled at the wave of confusion currently present in Obi-Wan. The Jedi were so rigid in their use of the Force – couldn't seem to admit that everyone had a mix of Darkness and Light within them. Even Sidious – the black heart of the Sith – liked Obi-Wan and cared very much for shy little Reela. If she'd only been older she would make Sidious a very good wife – would further project his veneer of respectability. Maybe he could get Obi-Wan and Reela together once Obi-Wan became his Right Hand. Sidious would have to dispose of Amidala of course, but after the proper mourning … Reela would then be a little older, a little more confident.

"What goes through your mind, my apprentice?" he asked, savoring the spicy taste of the broth.

"I'm not your apprentice, Sidious, nor will I ever be," Obi-Wan replied steadily. He arched his eyebrows. "If you're that interested in my thoughts, feel free to rummage around like you've no doubt done since the day we met."

Sidious just smiled, acknowledging the verbal joust. Obi-Wan Kenobi was indeed a worthy adversary – he would make an admirable Right Hand. "True, but as you are to become my Right Hand, someone I trust, I should allow you the freedom of your thoughts and the will to communicate them or not."

Obi-Wan's bright eyes darkened with anger. "You talk like I've already fallen to the Dark Side," he said contemptuously, draining his _kevas_. "You have nothing in which I have any interest, Sidious." His eyes glinted once more but with humor this time. "Except perhaps Reela's _kevas_ blend."

Sidious smiled again. "She protects that recipe assiduously – even against me. I doubt you would be any more successful. For all her shyness she can be very stubborn." He lifted his mug of soup up. "Exhibit number one as evidence."

Obi-Wan sighed and examined the bottom of his cup as if it held all the answers to life's mysteries. "I'm never going to join you, Sidious. Somewhere deep inside; you must realize that."

"I'm unaccustomed to failure," Sidious snapped, annoyed by the persuasive tone that had crept into Obi-Wan's voice. "And don't try any of those Jedi mind tricks either."

Obi-Wan chuckled – even more annoyingly – then leaned over and poured another cup of _kevas_. "I knew I'd get on your nerves if I dug long enough," he said derisively, taking a sip of the _kevas_ and wearing his blandest, most innocent air.

Was he that predictable to the Jedi? While the Sith didn't fear their strong emotions in the same way as the Jedi, too much emotionality was useless. Sidious took a deep breath and sought out his black center. "Has anyone ever told you that you're quite infuriating?" he asked mildly, having won the battle over his hot temper.

Obi-Wan smirked. "Padmé calls me a brat quite often," he said. "I look forward to seeing her again after I've defeated you and the hideous darkness you've fostered throughout the Galaxy."

"Noble words but ultimately futile," Sidious replied, enjoying the verbal sparring. It truly would be a pity to have to destroy Kenobi, but he wouldn't hesitate of course. He would never let sentiment get in the way of his ambitions. "If we both survive, it will be through the darkness. You cannot defeat me using the Light Side alone; you kill me and you will have to use the darkness to do so. You will struggle against the darkness every day – just as Master Jinn does – and one day you will take that final step."

"Good grief; do you _never_ shut up?" Obi-Wan asked lazily. "If you're so determined to kill me or convert me, prating on at me for hours won't do it."

Sidious felt the anger well up once more and got up. "You really are a fool, Kenobi," he said. "Well, if you are so determined, we shall settle this matter without delay." He went over to Obi-Wan. "Follow me, you stubborn creature."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Relieved to finally have this over and done with, Obi-Wan finished his kevas then took a spoon of the soup. "I'm not about to fight on an empty stomach," he said blandly.

Sidious cackled. "Let us return to one of the sparring rooms and equip ourselves. While I will be victorious there is no challenge in killing an unarmed opponent."

"Honor from a Sith?" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he followed Sidious through the stone corridors and into an elevator occupied by a hulking guard. "I've heard it all now."

"Shut up, Jedi!" the guard spat out, aiming a pan-sized fist at Obi-Wan's head.

Obi-Wan ducked easily and Sidious smirked. "You should never telegraph your punches, my over-zealous acolyte. Am I correct, Obi-Wan?"

"Indeed," Obi-Wan replied then kicked out with his foot and swept the guard's legs out from under him.

Sidious cackled again as the guard got to his feet while Obi-Wan folded his arms and watched with mild interest. "You're unusually combative for one so contemplative," the Sith offered as the odd trio made its way along the bare stone corridors.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "One gets one's amusement where one can," he replied.

"Indeed," Sidious nodded. "You amuse me greatly, young Jedi. If you would just see sense I could enjoy your wit for many years to come."

Obi-Wan feigned a yawn and examined his fingernails. "I'd tell you what I think of that, but I don't want to offend this young one's delicate sensibilities."

Sidious snickered and the trio turned into a large chamber – the walls of which were covered with a disturbing variety of weapons. He turned to the guard. "You're dismissed," he said abruptly.

"My Lord?"

Sidious raised his hands, which glowed with an odd blue/white hue. "Don't make me say it again," he replied.

The guard's eyes widened and his ruddy features paled. He bowed hastily. "Of course, My Lord," he said and made good his escape.

Sidious went over to the wall and plucked two sabers therefrom, tossing one to Obi-Wan. "Your saber, Master Kenobi," he said. "One thing we Sith and you Jedi have in common is our attachment to our sabers." He sighed and contemplated the hilt of his own saber. "It never feels quite right when using another's saber, does it?"

That was true, but Obi-Wan wasn't about to admit it. "You're beginning to get on my nerves, Sidious," he said.

Sidious smirked, an action rendered hideous by those glowing yellow eyes. "Good," he said. "Give in to that anger and take the final step, my apprentice."

"I'm not your apprentice, nor will I ever be," Obi-Wan shot back angrily then thumbed on his saber.

"You're coming closer to the Dark Side as your anger grows," Sidious taunted, activating his red saber. "The Darkness is powerful, pervasive and embracing. Step willingly into its embrace, my apprentice, and you do not need to die today."

"No; I'll simply die when you decide my usefulness to you has ceased."

"True, but is it better to live a long humdrum life or a short glorious one?"

Obi-Wan nodded his head. "That's another of the few things we can agree on, Sidious." The yellow eyes showed surprise and Obi-Wan added, "I'm not so naïve as to automatically dismiss what you say simply because we're enemies."

"No; you were never very hot-headed," Sidious replied, feinting with his saber. The moves were clumsily rendered – as if he hadn't fought in some time – but Obi-Wan wasn't fooled. "Your calm and wisdom make you very steady. And while you may not be quite as strong as Master Jinn, you are far more dependable."

Obi-Wan frowned at the slur to his friend, his brother. "So, are we going to just talk all day or are you going to 'dispose of me' at some point?" he inquired sarcastically.

Sidious chuckled and feinted several more times, the moves suddenly those of a master swordsman. Obi-Wan felt cool clarity settle over him, his objective clear. Defeat this hideous darkness and work to end the dreadful chain of events so long ago set in motion by the creature in front of him.

The red blade came neatly toward him in a style similar to Mace Windu's Vaapad and Obi-Wan nearly smiled. Vaapad was a difficult style for many Jedi to practice as it required careful channeling of the darkness present in all, and Obi-Wan had always been notoriously bad at it. However, he had been studying the form with Mace for several years now and would therefore be able to give a far better showing than Sidious seemed to expect.

"Of overconfidence you should be wary," he heard Master Yoda remind him. He absorbed the Master's words as he blocked each of Sidious' strikes – each move aimed at a different part of the body. Soresu was Obi-Wan's favored form and was the best defensive form – but he knew that he would have to go on the offensive if he were to defeat Sidious.

He hissed when the red saber grazed his midsection and forced his mind into the here and now, blocking off the pain to be dealt with later should he survive. He parried the Sith's strikes, aiming to batter at the older man's defenses, and then saw an opening and thrust his blade into Sidious' side.

The hideous being shrieked in anger and pain, flung his blade away, and then raised his hands which glowed white-hot with electricity. "Die, Kenobi!" he cackled.

The waves of what could only be described as Force lightning enveloped Obi-Wan's body – nearly stopping his heart. He'd never known pain like this – pain that he couldn't work through and set aside. Every nerve ending screamed with overload and his legs buckled several times under the onslaught. He gripped his saber tighter and wielded it to some effect in deflecting some of the Force, but his increasingly pain-wracked form bore the brunt.

The malevolent being cackled gleefully – now seeming quite unconcerned about the gaping wound in his side – and poured on the assault. Obi-Wan's legs buckled again and he collapsed to the floor, unable to do anything as his limbs froze one by one. _I'm sorry, Padmé_, he thought as the blackness claimed him. _I love you and I'm so sorry._

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Sidious gave a disgusted sneer at the fading Jedi then pressed a hand to his side. It would heal of course – given time and bacta – but it was a nuisance he could do without right now. He moved carefully over to his com system and entered a peculiar code – the import of which would soon be felt across the galaxy. "Execute Order 66," he rasped. "66 is go."

"Confirm," one of his best clone troopers responded.

"Order 66 …" Sidious gasped when pain seared his upper back and he looked down in amazement to see the glowing end of Obi-Wan's saber protruding from his chest. "What …?" he crackled.

"You should have finished the job, Sidious," Obi-Wan said, stepping in front of Sidious. He had the audacity to actually look sympathetic, which only infuriated Sidious further. "You're well-read, witty and a good conversationalist. In another life, we could well have been allies or even friends."

Sidious could barely concentrate on the injured Jedi – how had he managed to stay conscious? He raised his hands and attempted to summon the Force, but his dying body wouldn't let him. "You can … kill me," he got out defiantly, "but you can't … kill all … my acolytes. They … will not rest until …"

Then the blackness overcame him and he became one with the glorious Dark.

Darth Sidious was no more.


	25. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

As the weeks and months passed after Sidious' defeat, a new Chancellor was elected; Bail Organa of Alderaan. He was able to stop the flow of money, materiel and personnel to the frontlines and forged a tentative peace with the Separatists – many of whom genuinely sought secession from the Republic.

Order 66 – an implanted command for the clone troopers to turn on the Jedi – was never implemented. As many clones as could be found were rounded up for deprogramming. Several couldn't be deprogrammed and had to be euthanized. Hundreds more couldn't be located and were now likely working for some of the acolytes to which Sidious had referred.

Commander Cody was horrified when he learned what had been done to him and, after the treatment, offered his services as liaison between the military and the Jedi. Shortly after beginning his new post, he learned that he was to become a father.

Padmé continued to regain her strength and mobility – two years after her injury she only displayed a small limp when overly tired. She and Obi-Wan grew ever closer, and marriage had crossed both their minds, although neither had the courage to raise the issue first.

Once Obi-Wan had recovered from Sidious' assault, he went back to his duties as a Jedi Master and trainer to Padawan Tano. He had not yet been offered a place on the Council, but that day was not far off.

Two years after Sidious' death, Melarina married Kayden Calrissian and moved with Javen to Cloud City. Her marriage did not stop her flirting with Qui-Gon every chance she got – Kayden seemed to find it amusing.

As for Qui-Gon, outwardly he seemed unchanged. Yet Obi-Wan could now feel the older man's longing for love and family. And three years after Sidious' defeat, he began to wonder anew whether Qui-Gon and Kila might suit each other. She'd grown greatly in confidence over the preceding years, now able to flirt back with her customers, and had become a very good friend.

"Obi-Wan; are you ready?" Qui-Gon said, appearing at Obi-Wan's door looking tired and sad. Dooku's turn to the Dark Side had hurt him deeply and his capture and torture of Obi-Wan at Rattatak the previous year had only added to that hurt.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "But do you mind if we go to Dex's instead? I'm hungry and in dire need of caf."

Qui-Gon's nose wrinkled. "I'd love to know who was responsible for introducing you to that stuff," he said.

He was about to find out.

The two men departed the Temple, chatting amiably about upcoming missions – they'd begun participating in joint missions once more now that the war had ended. Although they were both still commissioned officers in the Republic military, those commissions were inactive.

The conversation turned personal as they entered the door, still talking in the peculiar language that had developed over the ten millennia of the Jedi's growth. "Do you think she wishes to marry you?" Qui-Gon asked, shepherding the younger man into a booth. "If she doesn't, this entire discussion is moot."

"Well, you certainly know how to cheer a man up – thank you for that, Master," Obi-Wan replied dryly. He sat down and Qui-Gon followed suit.

"You're very welcome, _Padawan_." Qui-Gon laughed and leaned back, spreading his long arms across the length of the booth. His nose wrinkled once more then he smiled. "I smell Chandril winter broth," he said. "Someone really knows how to cook."

"You haven't eaten for a while, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan prodded less than subtly. Qui-Gon – stubborn creature that he was – could be astonishingly neglectful of his health at times.

"I've eaten enough today," Qui-Gon replied firmly.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said, deciding to let Kila fight that particular battle – she was terribly strong-willed too and it would be interesting to see those wills clash.

Kila came over to their table, her order pad at the ready. "Hi, guys; what can I get you?"

Obi-Wan smiled up at Kila, greeted her and gave his order.

Qui-Gon looked up; his eyes widened with admiration and he flushed faintly. "Ah … just a glass of water for me, please," he said, offering Kila a warm smile.

Kila wasn't about to let a customer have only water – not influenced by the profit motive but by her own maternal instincts. Although how she was able to mother someone more than twice her age was certainly an impressive feat. She persuaded Qui-Gon into the winter broth then, surprisingly, sat down next to him to join in the discussion of Obi-Wan's love life. Although inexperienced in matters of the heart, Kila was wise and practical, able to get to the core of an issue.

As Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon and Kila interact, he felt the stirrings of a bond beginning to form. Happily in love himself, he wanted the same for Qui-Gon and Kila. They had everything they could ever want in each other, but only time would tell whether they would realize it.

Only a few minutes later, Kila ejected the men from the diner, handing Qui-Gon a travel flask with the soup. Their hands brushed and Obi-Wan felt the attraction between them as if it were a live thing.

"So … what did you think?" Obi-Wan asked as they strolled out of the diner.

Qui-Gon turned back and perused Kila's busy form then smiled. "She's lovely," he said simply. "I can see why you like her so much, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan knew better than to push. Qui-Gon was wary of giving his heart and Kila was shy and inexperienced. Far better to let matters take their natural course. "I'm glad," he replied just as simply. "One can never have too many friends."

And if a friendship with Kila became Qui-Gon's second chance at lasting happiness, Obi-Wan would consider this a good day's work.

**THE END**


End file.
